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FARMING  IT 


IT  WAS  A  CLEAN   KNOCKOUT  (PAGE  157) 


FARMING   IT 


BY 


HENRY  A.  SHUTE 

Auihor  of  "  The  Real  Diary  of  a  Real  Boy ' 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
REGINALD  B.  BIRCH 


BOSTON   AND  NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY  RENRY  A.  SHUTE  AND  HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMFANT 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 

Published  November  tqfX) 


THIRD   IMPRESSION 


PREFACE 

Of  the  propriety  of  submitting  this  book  to  the 
public  I  have  had  very  serious  doubts.  The 
nature-books  of  recent  years  have  certainly  been 
a  strong  incentive  to  out-of-door  life,  to  healthful 
and  clean  living  as  near  to  nature  as  possible. 

And  it  seemed  to  me  that  any  recital  of  actual 
experiences  that  might  possibly  deter  a  person 
seeking  country  life  as  a  means  of  pecuniary 
profit,  from  taking  the  plunge,  might  perhaps  be 
injudicious. 

But  the  more  I  considered  the  matter  the  more 
I  became  convinced  that  the  representations  of 
the  beautifully  illustrated  nature-magazines,  the 
seductive  stories  in  Sunday  paper  supplements, 
farm  and  garden  pamphlets,  seed  catalogues, 
poultry  periodicals,  pigeon  monthlies,  and  like 
literature,  were  a  trifle  overdrawn,  and  only  too 
often  had  the  effect  of  luring  the  unwary  city 
dweller  to  forsake  the  undeniable  luxuries  and 
comforts  of  city  life,  for  the  hard,  and  often,  at 
first,  unremunerative  labor  on  a  farm. 

For  many  city-bred  people  have  become  con- 
vinced that  the  path  to  riches,  luxury,  and  com- 
fort is  by  way  of  mushrooms  cultivated  in  an  old 
bureau  or  in  a  barn-cellar ;  that  a  solid  bank  ac- 


vi  PREFACE 

count  is  the  sure  and  proximate  result  of  "  raising 
squabs  for  profit";  that  a  safe-deposit  box  is  a 
vital  necessity  after  a  year  with  one  thousand 
hens. 

But  the  cultivation  of  mushrooms  by  any  per- 
sons other  than  experts  is  too  often  attended  with 
loss  of  life  in  horrible  agony  on  the  part  of  those 
purchasers  relying  on  the  quality  of  the  goods; 
squabs  "go  light,"  and  pigeons  do  not  always 
breed;  and  without  experienced  and  constant 
care,  a  package  of  insect  powder,  a  chattel  mort- 
gage, or  the  services  of  an  auctioneer  are  of  much 
more  importance  and  a  far  greater  necessity 
after  a  year  with  a  thousand  hens,  than  a  safe- 
deposit  box. 

There  is  a  "  Jabberwock  with  eyes  of  flame** 
lying  in  wait  for  every  product  of  the  farm  and 
garden,  but  in  that  I  think  lies  one  of  the  charms 
of  farming.  Crops  that  will  thrive  without  cul- 
tivation are  not  very  desirable.  It  is  much  better 
fun  to  catch  pickerel  and  trout  than  eels  or  pout, 
although  the  baser  fish  are  just  as  good  to  eat. 
A  boy  of  ten  will  throw  back  with  disgust  a  six- 
pound  sucker  he  has  caught,  but  will  fancy  him- 
self a  Croesus  when,  after  unheard-of  climbing 
and  walking  and  wading  and  sweating  and  mos- 
quito-biting, he  returns  with  a  small  string  of 
wary  perch  weighing  four  ounces  each. 

The  same  care  and  the  same  amount  of  work 


PREFACE  vii 

that  will  produce  success  in  other  lines  of  useful- 
ness will,  I  believe,  lead  to  success  on  a  farm. 
More  than  this,  I  do  not  believe  there  can  be  a 
healthier  life  or  a  pleasanter  than  the  life  of  a  per- 
son interested  in  country  life  or  nature  on  a  farm, 
whether  he  farms  as  an  amateur,  with  an  income 
from  a  profession  or  a  trade,  or  as  a  farmer  from 
love  of  the  life. 

And  I  trust  that  this  book  may  be  useful  in 
tempting  many  back  to  the  soil,  prepared  for 
hard  work,  without  which  no  success  is  worth  the 
name. 

Henry  A.  Shute. 

Exeter,  N.  H.,  October,  190». 


CONTENTS 

L    The  Doctor  Prescribes  1 

n.    I  Buy  my  Pigs  6 

m.    Livestock  19 

IV.    The  Gallic  War  29 

V.    Hens  83 

VI.    The  Remedy  and  the  Disease  45 

VII.    My  Old  Friend  Nick :  a  Failure  in  Wholesale  54 

Vril.    Setbacks  67 

IX.   More  Setbacks  73 

X.    Gramp  and  the  Gamecock  78 

XI.    The  Grange  8S 

XII.    Turkeys  and  a  Footrace  91 

Xm.    A  Night  Call  110 

XIV.    Great  Expectations  118 

XV.   The  Tales  of  Gramp  129 

XVI.   The  Shower  145 


FARMING  IT 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   DOCTOR   PRESCRIBES 

ROM  my  youth  I  had  been  designed 
by  my  ambitious  and  autocratic  fa- 
ther for  the  study  of  the  law.  In  my 
secret  heart  I  had  rebelled  against 
his  desires.  He  had  never  given  me  any  reasons 
which  seemed  to  justify  this  line  of  conduct 
except,  as  he  frequently  said,  "  There  was  plenty 
of  room  at  the  top."  I  could  not  deny  it,  because 
at  that  time  I  had  never  been  to  the  top  to  verify 
his  statement,  and  since  that  time  I  have  never 
succeeded  in  getting  above  the  overcrowded  con- 
dition of  affairs  at  the  bottom. 

So  far  as  I  could  learn  of  my  ancestry,  there 
had  never  been  any  lawyers  in  the  family  since 
the  progenitor  of  that  family  in  remote  times 
had  burst  upon  the  New  World.  Consequently, 
there  was  never  any  heredity  that  had  given  me 
a  desire  for  the  study  of  the  law ;  in  fact,  I  had 
always  rebelled  against  any  and  all  study  what- 
soever, however  necessary,  however  desirable. 


2  FARMING    IT 

It  is  not  out  of  place  here  to  state  that  my  auto- 
cratic father  has  seen  good  reasons  to  moderate 
his  ambitious  desires  in  respect  to  my  vocation 
in  life,  and,  to  speak  more  plainly,  wishes  he  had 
not  interfered. 

Now  I  had  inherited  or  acquired  a  certain 
taste  for  the  soil,  which  manifested  itself  in  vari- 
ous ways  during  my  boyhood.  I  had  early  con- 
ceived a  taste  and  interest  in  mud  pies,  and  had 
carried  the  products  of  that  industry  on  my  face 
and  hands  to  perhaps  a  greater  extent  than  any 
child  in  the  neighborhood.  I  had  also  manifested 
a  most  reprehensible  tendency  to  besmear  my- 
self with  mud  upon  every  occasion.  That  this 
was  to  a  certain  extent  a  matter  of  heredity  I 
have  no  doubt. 

My  great-grandfather  had  once  owned  the 
largest  and  finest  farm  in  town,  and  had,  while 
yet  a  young  man,  sold  the  same  for  a  round 
sum,  the  interest  on  which  enabled  him  to  live 
in  comfort  for  the  rest  of  his  days  and  maintain 
a  large  family  of  children,  who,  as  tradition  has 
it,  did  all  they  could  to  relieve  that  ancestor  of 
all  loose  money  that  he  possessed.  As  he  passed 
from  this  world  nearly  three  quarters  of  a  cen- 
tury ago,  it  is  needless  to  state  that  his  later  life 
was  not  embittered  by  his  intimate  acquaintance 
with  me.  He  is  gone,  but  the  farm  still  remains, 
and  the  tradition  that  our  family  once  owned  it 


THE    DOCTOR    PRESCRIBES    3 

is  the  pleasantest  item  of  family  history,  one  upon 
which  we  lay  the  greatest  stress  in  speaking  of 
the  departed  glories  of  the  family. 

Now  had  I  been  able  to  indulge  my  strong  de- 
sire to  live  the  life  of  a  farmer,  I  have  no  hesita- 
tion, in  view  of  my  recent  experience,  in  saying 
that  I  would  have  made  the  worst  specimen  of 
an  agriculturalist  the  world  has  ever  seen,  and 
so  perhaps  my  venerable  father  wrought  better 
than  he  knew  when  he  indicated  in  his  convinc- 
ing manner  the  road  which  I  was  to  travel.  True 
enough,  I  might  have  made  a  greater  success  as 
a  musician,  a  sign-painter,  or  a  seller  of  patent 
medicines,  but  I  stuck  to  the  law. 

It  is  a  very  curious  fact  that,  although  I  had 
in  common  with  the  rest  of  my  family  a  decided 
objection  to  hard  work  and  drudgery  of  any  kind, 
and  although  office-work  came  terribly  hard  to 
a  boy  who  had  spent  his  early  years  in  the  open 
air,  yet  after  a  time  the  regular  hours,  the  in- 
teresting nature  of  my  business,  and  the  acquaint- 
ance with  all  kinds  of  people  began  to  exercise 
a  fascination  over  me  that  resulted  perhaps  in 
too  great  attention  to  business  affairs,  and  the 
observance  of  too  long  hours  in  my  office. 

In  consequence  of  this,  and  in  direct  violation 
of  all  traditions  of  my  family,  I  became  some- 
what used  up  from  over-work,  and  consulted  a 
physician,  who,  with  strange  and  terrifying  in- 


4  FARMING    IT 

struments,  made  exhaustive  examinations  of  the 
workings  of  my  vital  organs,  and  finally  suggested 
that  I  had  better  take  more  exercise,  keep  in  the 
open  air  as  much  as  possible,  and  not  allow  busi- 
ness affairs  to  worry  me.  For,  as  he  said,  I  had 
become  a  little  "hipped"  from  too  close  atten- 
tion to  business,  and  needed  rest. 

Now  this  gratified  me  beyond  measure,  for  it 
is  really  a  delightful  thing  to  have  people  look 
upon  one  as  a  person  who  has  been  sacrificing 
his  health  to  the  demands  of  his  profession,  and 
although  I  knew  in  my  inmost  heart  that  I  never 
had  overworked,  but,  if  the  truth  were  known, 
had  spent  a  good  part  of  office  hours  in  sitting 
with  my  feet  on  the  desk,  contemplating  the 
square  in  front  of  my  office,  I  fostered  to  the 
utmost  the  delusion  under  which  the  doctor  and 
the  people  in  general  labored,  and  I  decided  to 
take  a  rest.  I  can  give  you  no  idea  of  the  pleasure 
I  felt  in  hearing  the  remarks  made  by  my  ac- 
quaintances upon  my  personal  appearance,  and 
in  realizing  that  in  the  minds  of  some  I  was,  ac- 
cording to  their  expression,  "  booked  for  the  junk 
heap  "  unless  I  took  a  rest. 

It  was  then  that  the  long-dominant  desire  to 
have  a  small  farm  or  garden  patch  of  my  own 
awoke  in  me.  I  knew  perfectly  well  that  if  I  took 
a  deserted  farm  and  tried  to  bring  it  to  its  previ- 
ous usefulness,  history  would  be  repeated,  and  it 


THE    DOCTOR    PRESCRIBES    5 

would  again  become  a  deserted  farm,  and  prob- 
ably with  an  added  mortgage. 

An  opportunity  to  buy  a  two  -  and  -  one  -  half 
acre  place  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  and  an 
equally  fortuitous  arrival  of  a  complacent  mort- 
gagee, solved  the  difficulty.  And  so  from  the  in- 
herited disposition  for  that  part  of  a  farmer's  life 
which  consisted  of  lying  at  ease  in  a  pile  of  new- 
mown  hay,  contemplating  the  growth  of  one's 
vegetables,  the  plumpness  of  one's  neat  stock, 
the  regular  markings  of  one's  prize  poultry,  and 
the  exceeding  ripeness  of  one's  fruit,  I  determined 
to  have  that  place,  in  order  to  eke  out  the  pre- 
carious living  afforded  me  by  the  practice  of  my 
profession,  by  applying  myself  to  arduous  labor, 
which  I  felt  sure  would  bring  me  renewed  health. 
I  recked  not  of  drought,  of  storms,  of  the  ravages 
of  coleoptera,  of  the  attacks  of  orthoptera,  and 
the  scourge  of  hemiptera,  of  lepidoptera,  of  hy- 
menoptera,  of  diptera,  of  all  sorts  and  kinds  of 
'ptera,  those  enemies  of  bucolic  prosperity.  Nay, 
I  even  dared  the  heavy  handicap  of  a  six  per  cent 
power  -  of  -  sale  mortgage,  with  interest  payable 
semi-annually  in  advance. 


CHAPTER  II 

I   BUY   MY   PIGS 

PASS  over  as  uninteresting  to  my 
readers  the  details  of  house-repair- 
ing, the  purchase  of  suitable  furni- 
ture, new  rugs,  and  other  articles 
declared  necessary  by  my  wife.  I  also  pass  over 
many  pungent  remarks  and  spicy  declarations 
of  that  frank  lady  in  relation  to  my  ability  as 
a  farmer,  and  my  utility  in  general,  although 
these  remarks  certainly  would  be  vastly  inter- 
esting and  entertaining. 

During  the  interval  that  preceded  my  final 
removal  to  my  farm,  I  ran  up  every  day  or  two 
and  viewed  my  two-and-one-half  acres,  inspected 
my  barn  and  henhouse,  and  laid  plans  hugely. 
The  arrival  of  the  frigid  season,  of  course, 
made  any  active  cultivation  of  the  soil  impossi- 
ble. I  had  heard  of  winter  wheat,  and  had  opined 
that  I  would  sow  a  little  for  spring  consumption, 
but  before  the  formalities  necessary  to  the  trans- 
fer of  the  property,  and  the  negotiation  of  the 
mortgage  before  mentioned,  were  finished,  the 
ground  had  frozen  so  hard  that  the  proper  tritu- 


I    BUY    MY    PIGS  7 

ration  of  the  earth  was  entirely  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, except  by  the  use  of  high  explosives,  and  I 
was  far  too  modest  to  try  any  such  innovation 
as  dynamitic  ploughing. 

So  I  would  fain  content  myself  with  raising  a 
few  pigs  and  hens  until  the  gladsome  spring  was 
at  hand.  I  had  really  set  my  heart  on  pigs.  Pigs 
were  so  comfortable,  so  good-natured,  and  so 
delightfully  lazy.  I  respected  and  admired  that 
trait.  I  was  lazy,  and  had  my  circumstances  in 
life  permitted  full  indulgence  in  that  most  ami- 
able of  virtues,  I  would  undoubtedly  have  done 
little  more  than  to  eat,  sleep,  and  cultivate  my 
mind  by  omnivorous  but  light  reading. 

But  unfortunately  my  financial  state  had  been 
such  that  I  was,  and  had  been  from  the  time 
when  I  burst  upon  a  large  and  unappreciative 
community  as  a  sort  of  reincarnated  chrysalis 
attorney-at-law,  compelled  to  spend  a  large  part 
of  my  waking  hours  in  that  sort  of  practice  which 
is  commonly  spoken  of  as  active;  why  active,  I 
cannot  say.  Consequently,  not  being  able  to  give 
free  rein  to  my  slothful  yearnings,  I  could  respect 
and  envy  its  possession  in  pigs,  and  pigs  I  was 
determined  to  have. 

Now  my  wife  objected  strongly  to  pigs,  and 
when  informed  of  my  intentions,  delivered  quite 
a  masterly  argument  on  the  subject.  I  was  in- 
formed that  pigs  were  filthy,  nasty  animals,  al- 


8  FARMING    IT 

ways  kept  in  abominably  smelling  pens,  fed  upon 
refuse,  and  breeders  of  typhoid  fever,  malaria, 
cholera,  and  other  kindred  evils. 

I  assured  her  that  while  this  was  perhaps  fre- 
quently so,  these  characteristics  were  not  indig- 
enous to  the  pigs,  but  were  the  results  of  improper 
food  and  unsuitable  sanitary  arrangements  so 
painfully  evident  in  the  ordinary  pig-pens,  but 
that  I  intended  to  violate  all  the  traditions  of 
country  pig  -  culture,  by  the  development  of 
specimens  in  a  condition  of  perfect  cleanliness, 
suitably  nourished  with  the  most  approved  foods. 

She  replied  that,  while  this  was  all  very  well  in 
theory,  I  was  the  very  last  person  in  the  world  to 
keep  up  my  interest  in  anything  for  any  consider- 
able period,  and  cited  a  long  and  painful  list  of 
instances  in  which  certain  theories  of  mine  had 
been  dissipated  and  thoroughly  exploded,  and  at 
considerable  expense  to  me. 

I  waived  the  citations,  however,  and  reminded 
her  that  the  one  common  ground  of  neighborly 
good  feeling  in  a  bucolic  community  was  the  pig- 
pen, and  that  more  comfort  was  obtained  of  a 
Sabbath  morning,  and  of  a  holiday,  in  leaning 
over  the  pig-pen  with  a  neighbor,  smoking  and 
exchanging  pastoral  gossip,  than  in  any  other 
way. 

She  retorted  that  I  would  be  in  much  better 
business  attending  church  on  the  Sabbath,  and 


I    BUY    MY    PIGS  9 

occasionally  spending  part  of  a  holiday  in  beating 
a  few  rugs  or  mowing  the  lawn,  instead  of  paying 
out  money  for  what  I  could  do  perfectly  well  my- 
self, if  I  only  had  a  little  energy.  Goodness  knew 
she  needed  the  money  badly  enough  for  things  in 
the  house. 

Well,  there  was  little  use  in  continuing  the  dis- 
cussion, and  so  I  said  no  more  at  the  time,  but 
spent  the  greater  part  of  my  leisure  hours  during 
the  week  in  building  a  good  stout  sleeping-floor 
in  the  pig-house,  and  wheeling  in  straw,  ashes, 
and  dry  leaves.   I  was  determined  to  have  pigs. 

The  next  thing  was  to  purchase  my  pigs.  I  was 
somewhat  at  a  loss  to  make  a  choice  of  the  com- 
parative merits  of  Chester  White,  Poland  China, 
Berkshire,  Sussex,  Bedford  or  Jersey  Red.  All 
these  breeds  and  many  others  I  had  read  of  in 
my  encyclopaedia,  but  strange  to  say  I  could  find 
no  mention  of  the  breed  known  as  Runts.  I  had 
certainly  heard  somewhere  of  Runt  pigs,  and 
meant  if  possible  to  have  some.  I  had  many  years 
before  kept  fancy  pigeons,  and  knew  that  the 
variety  known  as  Runts  were  the  "giants  of  the 
pigeon  tribe,"  and  their  squabs  were  the  quickest- 
growing,  fattest,  largest,  and  most  delicious  eating 
of  any.  The  name  Runt  could  therefore  be  ap- 
plied to  the  porcine  race  for  no  other  purpose, 
surely,  than  to  indicate  the  possession  of  some 
remarkable    qualities.     Accordingly    I    decided 


10  FARMING    IT 

upon  Runts,  if  I  could  find  any,  and  one  evening 
I  went  across  the  way  to  consult  my  neighbor 
Daniel. 

Now  Daniel,  my  nearest  neighbor,  is  a  gentle- 
man of  wealth  and  position,  a  lover  of  horses,  an 
expert  judge  of  cattle,  and  a  famous  breeder  of 
swine.  Daniel  loves  a  trade  in  any  one  of  the  lines 
mentioned,  and  enlivens  each  exchange  with  so 
many  quips  and  jokes  and  good  stories,  that, 
before  you  are  aware,  you  have  made  the  trade, 
taking  in  exchange  for  your  horse  or  cow  or  pig  a 
stock  of  new  stories  and  whatever  Daniel  may 
have  seen  fit  to  unload  upon  you. 

I  believe  in  perfect  frankness  whenever  I  try 
to  trade  with  a  man,  or  to  buy  of  him  anything  I 
know  but  little  of.  And  so  when  I  told  Daniel 
I  wished  to  buy  a  pair  of  his  best  pigs  and  would 
leave  the  price  to  his  fairness,  I  knew  I  should  be 
treated  as  a  man  and  a  brother. 

"Now,  Daniel,"  I  said,  "I  don't  know  any- 
thing about  pigs,  and  you  do,  but  I  have  some 
decided  ideas  in  the  matter.  I  have  thought  over 
the  different  breeds,  and  have  decided  to  get  the 
best,  even  if  they  do  cost  a  trifle  more.  I  want  a 
good  pair  of  Runts,  and  I  don't  know  just  where 
I  can  get  any." 

"What  do  you  want  Runts  for .?"  said  Daniel, 
with  an  expression  of  astonishment  on  his  ruddy 
face. 


I    BUY    MY    PIGS  11 

"  Well,  I  suppose  it  will  be  a  bit  expensive,"  I 
replied,  "but  if  a  man  is  going  to  be  a  farmer, 
even  an  amateur  farmer,  he  might  as  well  do  the 
thing  right,  and  unless  you  begin  right  you  won't 
go  very  far.  Now,  a  few  years  ago,"  I  continued, 
"I  went  in  a  bit  for  fancy  pigeons  and  squab- 
raising,  and  although  I  did  n't  make  any  money 
on  the  venture,  I  picked  up  a  lot  of  information. 
And  let  me  tell  you  this,  Daniel,  Runts  are.  the 
largest,  quickest-growing,  and  easiest  to  fatten  of 
any  breed  of  pigeons,  and  I  believe  there  is  good 
money  in  Runt  pigs." 

Daniel  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed 
loudly,  then  leaning  forward,  with  a  shrewd 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  he  said :  — 

"  Well,  old  man,  you  are  more  of  a  farmer  than 
I  thought.  Now  if  you  are  determined  to  have 
Runts  I  will  tell  you  something.  I  did  n't  intend 
to  let  any  one  know,  but  I  have  a  pair  of  Runts, 
beauties  too,  that  I  will  let  you  have.  They  come 
a  bit  high,  because,  as  I  suppose  you  know,  a 
Runt  pig  is  not  nearly  as  common  as  other  breeds 
of  pigs.  You  can  have  a  pair  of  any  of  my  other 
pigs  for  twelve  dollars,  but  for  the  Runts  I  shall 
have  to  charge  you  eighteen." 

"  Well,  Daniel,"  I  replied  cheerfully,  "  if  that  is 
the  best  you  can  do,  here  is  your  money ' ' ;  and 
I  handed  him  the  money. 

"  Well,  hold  on,"  he  cried ;  "  don't  you  want  to 


12  FARMING    IT 

see  the  pigs  before  you  buy  them  ?  How  do 
you  know  I  will  give  you  what  you  have  paid 
for?'' 

"  Oh,  you  will  treat  me  all  right.  I  want  Runts, 
and  you  have  Runts,  and  I  want  the  best  pair  you 
have." 

"All  right,"  said  Daniel,  somewhat  doubtfully, 
as  he  tucked  the  bills  into  his  vest-pocket,  "you 
shall  have  them  to-morrow,  only  I  don't  want  any 
kick  coming." 

"  There  will  be  no  kick  coming,  Daniel ;  this  is 
a  fair  bargain,  and  as  long  as  I  get  Runts  I  shall 
be  satisfied.  Only  understand,  don't  palm  off  on 
me  any  ordinary  pigs,  —  just  plain  Runts  and 
nothing  else." 

"All  right,  my  son,"  said  Daniel,  coughing  so 
violently  into  his  handkerchief  that  he  had  to  wipe 
his  eyes. 

The  next  noon  when  I  returned  from  the  oflSce 
to  lunch  the  pigs  had  arrived,  and  our  entire 
family,  barring  my  wife,  was  leaning  over  the 
pen  contemplating  them  with  awe.  And,  indeed, 
at  first  sight  our  inexperienced  eyes  could  detect 
the  fact  that  they  were  no  ordinary  pigs.  They 
were  small,  much  smaller  than  I  supposed,  and 
were  covered  with  a  most  astonishing  growth  of 
hair,  and  their  teeth  or  tusks  seemed  consider- 
ably in  advance  of  their  general  bodily  develop- 
ment. 


I    BUY    MY    PIGS  13 

They  stood  with  their  front  feet  wide  apart,  and 
were  somewhat  wabbly  on  their  hind-legs.  In- 
deed, their  progress  about  their  pen  resembled 
that  of  an  inebriated  gentleman  endeavoring  to 
navigate  an  uneven  sidewalk.  But  I  recollected 
that  the  young  of  Runt  pigeons  were  delicate  until 
they  approached  maturity.  Still,  even  with  these 
reflections,  I  did  not  feel  entirely  satisfied  with 
my  bargain. 

After  lunch  I  repaired  to  the  pen,  and  in  the 
presence  of  my  children  administered  a  proper 
amount  of  nutriment  to  my  stock,  which,  how- 
ever, did  not  manifest  much  enthusiasm  for  their 
food,  a  lack  of  appreciation  of  our  efforts  in  their 
behalf  which  was  unquestionably  the  result  of 
unfamiliarity  with  their  surroundings. 

The  next  morning  was  Sunday,  and,  true  to 
my  prophecy,  neighbors  began  to  stroll  in  after 
breakfast  to  examine  my  stock. 

"Great  Moses!"  exclaimed  the  first  man  the 
moment  his  eyes  rested  on  the  animals,  "who 
sold  you  those  Runts?" 

"Well,  never  mind  where  I  got  them,"  I  re- 
plied shrewdly ;  "  it  is  n't  every  one  who  can  get  a 
fine  pair  of  Runts.  They  came  a  bit  high,  but  I 
was  bound  to  have  them." 

For  a  moment  he  eyed  me  with  amazement  at 
my  reticence,  and  then  burst  into  a  roar  of  laugh- 
ter and  clapped  me  on  the  back,  swearing  that  I 


14  FARMING    IT 

was  a  sure  enough  farmer.  Indeed,  most  of  my 
callers  that  day  seemed  so  unusually  cheerful 
that  I  began  to  be  a  bit  suspicious. 

The  physical  condition  of  my  pets  occasioned 
me  some  uneasiness,  and  the  recommendations  of 
my  friends  as  to  medical  treatment  were  to  the 
last  degree  discouraging.  One  recommended 
charcoal  and  bone-meal.  Another,  the  amputa- 
tion of  the  tail.  Another,  to  slit  the  forehead  and 
rub  in  sulphur.  Still  another,  to  look  for  black 
teeth  and  pull  them. 

That  night  the  smallest  pig  died,  and  was 
buried  with  suitable  ceremonies  and  after  titanic 
exertions  with  a  pickaxe.  That  afternoon  I  had 
stolen  an  hour  from  office-work  and  fared  to  the 
library,  where  I  consulted  various  works  on  Do- 
mestic Swine.  After  an  exhaustive  search  I  found 
the  following :  — 

"Occasionally  there  will  appear  in  a  litter 
of  pigs  a  stunted,  dwarfed,  or  misshapen  one, 
known  as  a  runt.  Whether  this  is  a  harking  back 
to  the  original  type  or  a  direct  inheritance  from 
some  defective  but  more  recent  ancestor  matters 
little.  The  runt  is  of  no  value  whatever,  and 
should  be  killed  at  birth.  Indeed,  by  allowing 
him  to  remain  with  the  others  one  may  menace 
the  well-being  of  the  healthy  pigs,  inasmuch  as 
the  runt  is  much  more  liable  to  contract  disease 
than  its  healthy  congeners.   We  have  yet  to  hear 


SWEARING   THAT  I  WAS  A   SURE  ENOUGH  FARMER 


I     BUY    MY    PIGS  15 

of  a  single  instance  in  which  a  runt  ever  devel- 
oped into  a  healthy  pig." 

After  reading  this  oracular  essay,  I  reflected  a 
bit.  Daniel  had  done  nie.  No,  that  was  not  quite 
fair  to  Daniel.  I  had  done  myself,  and  Daniel 
was  the  highly  amused  medium  by  which  I  had 
been  done. 

Well,  I  had  paid  eighteen  dollars  for  a  bit  of 
experience,  and  it  might  be  of  that  value  in  the 
end,  but  just  at  that  moment  it  appeared  a  rather 
high  price.  But  then,  think  of  the  vast  amuse- 
ment my  friends  had  received  and  the  general 
rejoicing  of  the  public  over  the  joke.  At  the 
thought  of  this  I  grew  hot  and  cold  by  turns. 

I  soon  decided  on  a  plan  of  action.  That  night, 
under  cover  of  darkness,  I  drove  to  a  neighboring 
town  with  my  son,  and  bought  a  couple  of  fine, 
healthy  pigs,  for  which  I  paid  the  modest  price 
of  eight  dollars,  leaving  the  sole  surviving  runt 
with  the  farmer,  who  promised  to  put  him  out 
of  the  way. 

And  so,  the  next  day,  when  jovial  friends 
called  to  view  my  runts,  they  expressed  much 
astonishment  at  the  unreliability  of  gossip,  and 
each  and  every  one  appeared  much  discomfited 
and  cast  down. 

Now  the  new  pigs  throve  bravely  and  ate 
ravenously.  True,  they  squealed  raucously  when 
they  did  not  get  their  food  at  the  regular  periods. 


16  FARMING     IT 

but  they  seemed  to  grow  perceptibly  from  one  day 
to  another,  and  little  by  little  I  began  to  regain 
my  assurance  and  to  talk  a  bit. 

But,  alas  for  my  confidence,  I  had  not  yet  seen 
the  last  of  my  trouble  as  a  porciculturist,  for  one 
morning  the  three  members  of  the  Board  of  Health 
stalked  into  my  office  and  sat  down  ponderously. 

"  Squire,"  said  one,  after  portentously  clearing 
his  throat,  "  be  ye  aware  that  ye  air  a-vilatin'  the 
regilation  of  the  Board  of  Health  in  keepin' 
pigs  ?" 

I  was  astounded,  and  gaped  at  the  three  gen- 
tlemen with  open  mouth. 

"  Why,  heavens  and  earth,  gentlemen,  can't  a 
man  keep  pigs  in  a  country  town  on  a  three-acre 
piece,  when  they  are  kept  as  clean  as  fresh  straw 
and  dry  beds  can  make  them.?"  I  shouted  in 
astonishment. 

"No,  squire,  they  can't,  s'  long's  we're  on  the 
Board,"  he  stoutly  affirmed ;  "  and  what's  more," 
he  continued,  "I'm  s'prised  'at  you  sh'd  try  tew 
dew  it,  squire,  when  you  know  the  law." 

"Has  any  complaint  been  made.?"  I  queried. 

"No  complaint's  been  made  by  nobody,"  re- 
plied the  chairman. 

"Have  you  examined  the  premises.?"  I  asked 
again. 

"Yes,  squire,  we've  looked  'em  over  keerful, 
an'  we're  bound  to  say  ye've  kep'  'em  neat  'n' 


I    BUY    MY    PIGS  17 

tidy  's  a  barn-loft,  but  that  don't  make  any  differ, 
ye  can't  keep  pigs  in  the  compact  part  of  the 
taown,  leastwise  not 's  long  es  we  fellers  is  on  the 
Board." 

"Why,  damn  it  all,  gentlemen,  do  you  seri- 
ously mean  to  forbid  me  from  keeping  pigs  by 
calling  up  a  law  that  is  only  made  to  regulate 
abuses,  like  the  five-miles-an-hour  law,  and  fifty 
other  such  laws  that  I  could  name  ?"  I  de- 
manded, with  pardonable  heat,  but  highly  ques- 
tionable emphasis. 

"  That 's  the  law,  squire,  and  this  is  the  abuse 
it's  made  to  regilate,  an'  we're  here  to  regilate  it. 
Naow  what  yer  goin'  tew  dew  'baout  it .?" 

I  reflected  a  moment.  They  were  right,  such 
was  the  law,  and  I  certainly  ought  to  be  the  first  to 
recognize  their  right  to  enforce  it,  although  it  was 
an  extreme  view  to  take  of  it,  and  sorely  disap- 
pointing after  my  earnest  and  well-meant  efforts 
to  benefit  and  improve  the  art  of  keeping  pigs. 

"  Well,  gentlemen^"  I  replied  at  length,  "I  con- 
sider that  you  are  taking  an  extreme  view  of 
the  law,  but  I  shall  yield.  The  pigs  will  go  to- 
night, that  is,  if  you  gentlemen  will  be  good  enough 
to  give  me  until  then  to  get  rid  of  them." 

"All  right,  squire,"  replied  the  chairman 
cheerfully.  "  Ye  can  have  'til  to-morrer  mawnin', 
and  if  ye '11  sell  'em  right,  I'll  buy  'em,"  he  con- 
tinued, eyeing  me  with  a  business  air. 


18  FARMING    IT 

"You  haven't  money  enough  to  buy  them, 
sir,"  I  replied  with  dignity,  and  they  clumped 
heavily  down  the  stairs. 

That  night  the  pigs  were  returned  to  the  farmer 
at  the  same  price  which  I  gave  for  them,  although 
they  were  nearly  a  third  larger ;  and  so,  although 
my  love  for  pigs  was  in  a  sense  betrayed, 

"  'T  were  better  to  have  loved  and  lost 
Than  never  to  have  loved  at  all." 


CHAPTER  III 

LIVESTOCK 

HE  unforeseen  obstacles  that  were 
thrown  in  my  way,  and  rendered  abor- 
tive my  attempts  to  revolutionize  the 
pig  industry  of  the  United  States,  did 
not  abate  one  jot  of  my  enthusiasm  for  the  noble 
art  of  farming  and  stock-breeding.  After  all,  pigs 
were  but  an  incident  in  the  life  of  a  farmer.  Sta- 
tistics demonstrated  the  fact  that,  while  the  fowl 
and  egg  industry  was  increasing  by  leaps  and 
bounds,  to  be  one  of  the  leading  industries  of  the 
country,  the  demand  was  far  in  excess  of  the 
annual  supply. 

When  in  the  fifties  the  first  Shanghai  fowl  was 
imported,  the  excitement  ran  so  high  that  it  was 
currently  reported  and  believed  that  at  last  an 
ideal  fowl  had  been  found  that  would  lay  two 
eggs  a  day  and  give  a  pint  of  milk.  Hundreds  of 
misguided  enthusiasts  retired  from  the  business 
in  disgust  when  they  found  that  the  much 
vaunted  Shanghai  fowl  was  a  sort  of  gallinaceous 
crane  or  cormorant,  with  an  abnormal  appetite,  a 
voice  like  an  ophicleide,  a  reproductive  capacity 
under  most  favorable  circumstances  of  about  six 


20  FARMING    IT 

eggs  per  year  for  the  first  year  and  of  none  there- 
after, and  a  steadfastness  and  pertinacity  of  in- 
cubation that  only  could  be  abated  by  setting  fire 
to  the  nest  and  consuming  nest,  eggs,  and  hen, 
and  occasionally  the  adjoining  buildings,  —  in 
which  case,  and  provided  the  buildings  were  pro- 
perly insured,  the  owner  made  money  and  lived 
happily  ever  afterwards. 

Yet  there  remained  a  steady  increase  in  the 
business,  and  of  late  years  the  invention  and  suc- 
cessful adoption  of  the  incubator  and  brooder 
had  forced  the  business  into  the  front  rank  of  na- 
tional industries.  When  one  reflects  on  the  vast 
scope  in  the  usefulness  of  an  egg,  ranging  from 
the  tempting  of  the  appetite  of  a  broken-down 
sport  to  the  assaulting  of  a  temperance  lecturer 
or  prima  donna  assoluta,  one  cannot  wonder  at  the 
increasing  demand. 

In  this  matter  I  had  no  illusions.  I  knew  some- 
thing about  hens,  as  I  had  kept  them  in  my  boy- 
hood. And  I  knew  also  the  difficulty  of  making 
them  lay  with  any  degree  of  regularity.  But  they 
were  interesting,  if  aggravating,  and  I  had  no 
doubt  of  being  able,  at  least,  to  have  fresh  eggs 
from  my  own  forcing-house,  and  spurless  spring 
chickens  of  known  and  recorded  juvenility.  The 
unpedigreed  egg  is  sometimes  dangerous  to 
meddle  with.  Like  the  little  girl  adorned  as  to 
her  forehead  with  ambrosial  locks,  — 


LIVESTOCK  21 

"When  she  was  good  she  was  very,  very  good. 
And  when  she  was  bad  she  was  horrid." 

I  consulted  skilled  artisans,  with  a  view  of  suit- 
ably amending  my  pig-pen  to  masquerade  as  an 
attractive  henhouse;  and  while  these  somewhat 
expensive  amendments  were  in  order  I  cast  about 
for  means  to  improve  the  fertility  of  my  farm. 

I  greatly  preferred  the  old-fashioned  dressing 
to  manufactured  fertilizers,  and  as  the  snow  was 
now  overdue,  I  made  arrangements  to  have  a 
large  amount  of  dressing  spread  over  my  land 
whenever  the  weather  betokened  snow.  By  these 
means  I  expected  to  avoid  any  unpleasant  odor 
by  an  immediate  covering  of  snow.  And  so,  one 
chill  day  when  the  sky  was  overcast  and  gray,  the 
wind  northeast,  and  a  few  flakes  of  feathery  snow 
came  silently  sifting  down,  I  notified  the  contrac- 
tor, and  before  I  left  for  the  oflSce,  teams  were 
arriving  and  brawny  Milesians  were  spreading 
dressing  thickly  over  our  premises. 

The  odor  as  I  left  was  a  bit  penetrating,  but  a 
brisk  snow-storm  was  beginning,  and  I  reassured 
my  family,  who  were  individually  expressing 
what  seemed  to  me  an  unreasonable  disposition 
to  find  fault  with  our  arrangements. 

Within  an  hour  the  clouds  had  cleared  away, 
the  sun  came  out,  the  snow  melted,  and  the  tem- 
perature rose  many  degrees.  I  was  so  occupied 
at  my  office  that  I  did  not  think  much  about  it 


22  FARMING    IT 

until  my  wife  called  me  up  on  the  'phone,  and  the 
following  conference  ensued :  — 

"Hullo?"  interrogatively. 

**  Hullo,"  responsively  and  confirmatively. 

"Is  that  you?" 

"  'S  me." 

"Well,  for  goodness*  sake  stop  these  men 
spreading  any  more  of  that  horrid  old  manure. 
It  smells  so—  Hullo!  hullo!!  hullo!!!  Why 
don't  you  listen  ?  —  dreadfully  that  we  can't 
stand  it.  We  have  shut  every  window  and  door  in 
the  house,  and  of  course  the  steam  is  just  sizzling, 
and—    Hullo!" 

"Why  don't  you  tell  them  to  stop?" 

"I  have  talked  and  talked  to  them,  and  they 
said  you  told  them  to  put  it  all  on  to-day  and  not 
to  stop  for  any  one." 

"  Call  one  of  them  to  the  'phone.'* 

"What?" 

"  Call  one  of  them  to  the  'phone,  and  I  will  talk 
to  him." 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  thinking  of  ?  Do 
you  suppose  I  will  have  one  of  those  smelly  men 
right  off  a  dump-cart  all  over  my  floor  ?  You 
TTiust  come  up." 

"Well,  I'll  come  in  a  few  moments." 

"  Now  do  hurry.  It  is  perfectly  dreadful !  Oh, 
dear!  I  wish  the  plaguy  place  had  been  sunk 
before  you  ever  bought  it.   Good-by." 


LIVESTOCK  23 

"Good-by."  I  hung  up  the  receiver,  dismissed 
my  client,  and  started  for  home. 

When  I  got  there  —  Well,  in  justice  to  my 
wife  I  must  admit  that  she  had  not  overstated  the 
case.  The  greater  part  of  the  lawn  and  field  was 
thickly  strewn  with  steaming  dressing,  the  whole 
atmosphere  fairly  palpitated,  and  travel  on  our 
street  had  practically  ceased. 

There  was  only  one  thing  to  do,  and  I  did  it. 
Before  noon  several  loads  of  wopd  ashes  were 
being  sifted  carefully  over  my  top-dressing,  by 
various  men  and  boys  whom  I  had  pressed  into 
service,  and  by  nightfall  the  annoyance  was 
abated ;  the  neighbors  and  their  families  had  re- 
turned from  the  hotel  accommodation  they  had 
hastily  engaged  down  town;  my  wife  had  re- 
considered her  determination  to  bring  a  libel  for 
divorce  on  the  ground  of  "treatment  calculated 
to  injure  health  or  reason";  I  had  paid  an  ex- 
travagant bill  for  top-dressing  and  a  still  larger 
one  for  the  antidote,  and  peace  was  once  more 
secured. 

At  all  events,  my  land,  or  a  certain  part  of  it, 
would  be  fertile  next  spring,  and  that  was  the 
main  thing  after  all.  So  I  superintended  opera- 
tions on  our  henhouse  and  incidentally  bought 
a  horse. 

I  had  had  considerable  experience  with  horses, 
and  had  ridden  and  driven  them  since  I  was  very 


24  FARMING    IT 

small.  I  already  had  one,  a  nervous,  high-strung 
sorrel  mare,  an  excellent  roadster  and  fair  saddler, 
but  too  impatient  and  quick  for  farm-work,  and 
I  knew  that  in  the  spring  the  price  would  be  high. 

One  day  while  reading  the  advertisements  of 
horse-sales  in  Boston,  I  found  one  that  attracted 
my  notice.  I  paid  scant  notice  to  the  "Lady 
going  to  Europe,  and  who  wished  to  get  a  good 
home  for  her  seal-brown  trotting  mare,  Jennie 
B.,"  etc.;  to  the  "Administrator  of  a  deceased 
doctor  will  sell  a  fine  stable  outfit,  and  will  throw 
in  the  favorite  roadster  of  the  doctor";  to  the 
"  Forty  Canadian  chunks  just  off  a  contracting 
job."  The  lady  had  gone  to  Europe  too  often, 
the  doctor  had  departed  this  life  with  too  much 
regularity,  and  the  Canadian  chunks  had  ap- 
peared in  undiminished  numbers  for  too  long  a 
period,  to  deceive  even  me. 

But  when  I  read,  "Bay  mare  of  good  breed- 
ing, in  foal  to  Electric  Jim  (2.16|),  first  dam 
Sukey  M.  (2.21),  second  dam  Wilkes  Jane  (2.12^) ; 
mare  good  roadster,  sound  and  kind,  had  been 
driven  by  a  lady  and  used  to  farm-work,  sold 
for  the  high  dollar,"  I  was  interested  at  once. 

Perhaps  the  one  thing  calculated  more  than 
any  other  to  stamp  a  modest  farm  as  a  stock- 
breeding  establishment  is  a  brood-mare  and  colt ; 
and  besides,  since  local  farmers  had  given  up  the 
raising  of  colts,  good,  safe,  well-broken  native 


LIVESTOCK  25 

horses  were  scarce.  Here,  at  least,  was  a  chance 
to  raise  a  colt  with  but  very  little  trouble. 

I  was  on  the  spot  at  the  date  of  the  sale,  and 
on  examination  the  mare  pleased  me.  She  would 
weigh  about  eleven  hundred  pounds,  had  good 
clean  legs,  a  kind  eye,  and  an  intelligent  head. 
Indeed,  when  she  was  led  out,  she  pleased  the 
crowd,  and  I  found  myself  bidding  against  sev- 
eral horsy-looking  men.  However,  by  persever- 
ance I  finally  ^had  her  knocked  down  to  me  for 
$175. 

For  a  week  after  her  arrival  I  used  her  singly, 
in  double  harness,  on  the  road,  in  the  dump-cart, 
and  she  suited  me  perfectly.  While  not  as  fast  as 
Polly,  she  was  steady  and  courageous  on  the  road, 
and  was  well-mannered  and  quiet  in  the  stable. 
I  was  perfectly  delighted  with  my  bargain,  and 
looked  to  the  foal  to  much  more  than  offset  my 
loss  on  pigs,  and  the  unusual  expense  of  the  dou- 
ble layer  of  fertilizer.  My  henhouse  had  been 
finished  and  at  no  great  expense,  and  I  consulted 
poultry  magazines  for  which  I  had  subscribed,  to 
see  which  were  the  best  breeds. 

But  from  them  I  got  no  reliable  advice,  for 
according  to  all  the  advertisements  and  articles  I 
read,  all  breeds  were  the  best  layers,  and  if  the 
smaller  breeds  did  not  have  as  much  meat  on 
them  as  the  larger,  their  meat  was  more  tender 
and  succulent.   All  were  winter  layers,  non-set- 


26  FARMING    IT 

ters,  and  easily  tamed,  and  the  handsomest  fowl 
in  existence. 

Indeed,  the  number  of  breeds  had  so  greatly 
increased,  and  their  names  were  so  unfamiliar, 
that  I  was  for  a  long  time  as  one  wandering  in  a 
foreign  land.  I  looked  in  vain  for  Bolton  Grays 
and  Rocky  Mountains,  the  two  breeds  the  most 
favored  when  I  was  a  boy ;  I  could  not  find  them. 

Instead,  I  found  various  varieties  of  Wyan- 
dottes,  Langshans,  Minorcas,  Orpingtons,  Sicilian 
Buttercups,  Rhode  Island  Reds,  Anconas,  Fa- 
verolles,  and  others,  of  which  I  had  never  heard. 
I  doubt  if  Rip  van  Winkle  on  awakening  from  his 
long  sleep  on  the  mountains  was  more  bewildered 
than  I  was  after  my  first  hour  with  a  poultry 
journal. 

The  journal  was  full  of  cuts  and  photographs 
of  noble-looking  but  strange  fowl,  and  of  exten- 
sive poultry  plants,  which  both  convinced  and 
astonished  me  at  the  magnitude  of  the  business. 

I  also  learned  that  the  Hon.  R.  Cuthbert 
Jenkins  had  purchased  of  Lady  the  Honorable 
Letitia  Jane  Cholmondeley  her  entire  stock  and 
all  rights  in  her  famous  strain  of  Jubilee  Orping- 
tons, which  amazed  me  intensely.  But  where 
were  the  Bolton  Grays,  and  what  had  become 
of  the  Rocky  Mountain  fowl  ?  Could  they  have 
utterly  perished  from  the  earth  like  the  auk  and 
the  bustard  ?   It  seemed  scarcely  possible.    The 


LIVESTOCK  27 

Black  Spanish,  the  Brahma,  and  the  Cochin  were 
still  extant,  as  well  as  the  Game  Fowl  and  the 
Sebright  Bantam. 

I  still  had  some  friends  and  must  be  content 
with  them.  It  was  not  until  about  a  week  later 
that  I  found  that  the  Bolton  Gray  and  the 
Rocky  Mountain  were  still  in  existence,  but  mas- 
querading under  the  more  pretentious  title  of 
Silver-Penciled  Hamburgs  and  American  Dom- 
inique respectively.  And  what  was  delightful,  I 
found  I  could  get  some  in  a  neighboring  town. 
So  I  took  a  day  off,  harnessed  my  new  purchase 
into  the  farm-wagon  in  which  I  had  loaded  two 
slatted  boxes,  donned  my  heavy  overcoat,  and 
started  out  to  purchase  the  fowls.  I  had  excellent 
luck,  purchased  a  dozen  fine  specimens  of  each 
breed,  loaded  them  on  the  wagon,  and  started 
homeward. 

All  went  well  until  I  got  home,  when  I  met  with 
a  slight  accident,  which,  while  the  results  were 
not  very  serious,  nearly  influenced  me  to  sell  the 
farm  and  return  to  town.  There  were  two  stone 
posts  at  the  entrance  of  my  driveway,  which  I 
could  safely  negotiate  with  Polly  by  day  or  night, 
in  spite  of  her  nervousness  and  rapid  gait.  It 
was  nearly  dark  when  I  got  home,  and  I  did  not 
realize  that  I  was  driving  a  horse  somewhat  new 
to  the  premises.  In  fact,  I  was  laying  plans  for 
my  fowls  and  only  regained  my  wits  when  I 


28  FARMING    IT 

found  myself  on  the  ground  under  the  superin- 
cumbent weight  of  two  slatted  coops  filled  with 
flapping,  squawking,  clawing  hens,  while  the 
horse  obediently  stopped  and  waited  for  me  to 
regain  my  seat  and  take  command. 

When  the  family  arrived,  all  asking  questions 
at  once  and  loudly  wondering  if  I  were  dead,  — 
an  unreasonable  assumption  in  view  of  my  lan- 
guage, —  I  had  righted  my  wagon,  replaced  one 
coop  with  its  prisoners  intact,  and  had  stood 
the  other  on  its  broken  end,  from  which  half  of 
its  occupants  had  escaped  and  were  wandering 
round  making  rustlings  in  the  leaves  and  bushes. 
After  what  was  left  of  my  load  had  been  safely 
secured  in  the  henhouse,  I  spent  the  next  two 
hours,  lantern  in  hand,  in  tracking,  chasing,  and 
running  to  earth  the  fugitive  hens,  after  which, 
completely  fagged  out,  I  retired. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   GALLIC   WAR 

HE  next  morning  I  was  at  the  hen- 
house before  I  took  care  of  the  horses. 
It  was  a  sharp  morning,  with  overcast 
sky,   and   the   fowls   looked   a    trifle 
hunchy. 

However,  some  dry  grain  scattered  among  the 
litter  on  the  floor  of  their  pens  set  them  scratching 
actively,  and  as  they  scratched  and  warmed  to 
their  work  they  began  to  prate  cheerfully,  while 
the  two  cocks  paraded  up  and  down  in  front  of 
their  wire  partition,  defying  each  other,  and  saying 
doubtless  all  manner  of  evil  things  of  each  other. 
As  I  watched  them  swell  and  strut  and  lower 
their  heads  defiantly,  and  occasionally  make  a 
short  rush  at  each  other,  a  vague  shadow  of  the 
old  feeling  that  used  to  induce  me  when  a  boy  to 
toss  our  rooster  over  a  neighbor's  fence,  and  then 
watch  the  battle  that  would  ensue,  came  over  me, 
and  for  a  moment  I  felt  a  sinful  desire  to  let  them 
together  for  just  a  few  jumps. 

The  Hamburg  was  a  handsome,  silvery  fellow, 
with  long  sickle  feathers   and  well  -  developed 


30  FARMING    IT 

spurs,  while  the  Dominique  was  solid  and 
chunky,  with  the  well-marked  hawk  plumage 
that  glowed  with  health. 

However,  I  refrained,  and  after  watching  them 
until  breakfast-time,  I  went  in  without  having 
fed  and  watered  Polly  and  our  well-bred  brood- 
mare, which  welcomed  me  after  breakfast  with 
reproachful  nickerings  and  pricked-up  ears. 

That  noon,  to  my  great  delight,  I  found  three 
fresh  eggs  in  the  nests,  which  I  conveyed  tri- 
umphantly into  the  house,  dropping  one  on  the 
floor,  however,  in  my  eagerness  to  show  them  to 
my  wife,  and  induce  her  to  retract  certain  opin- 
ions she  had  expressed  to  the  effect  that  I  would 
never  get  a  single  egg  from  my  old  hens  as  long 
as  I  lived. 

I  might  say  in  passing  that  that  egg  was  some- 
what more  than  ruined  for  life.  The  painstaking 
endeavors  I  made  to  scrape  it  up  with  a  spoon 
added  nothing  to  its  value  or  sphere  of  usefulness. 
But  never  mind,  I  had  at  least  received  some 
financial  return  for  my  outlay.  Eggs  were  worth 
forty- two  cents  a  dozen. 

That  afternoon  the  long  delayed  snow-storm 
came,  and  before  morning  nearly  a  foot  had  fallen. 
I  was  out  betimes  with  shovel  and  plough,  and  it 
was  a  pleasure  to  sit  on  the  plough  and  drive 
while  my  son  wielded  the  shovel.  Exercise  is  a 
good  thing  for  the  young,  and  one  of  the  greatest 


THE     GALLIC    WAR  31 

pleasures  I  experience  is  to  sit  and  see  others 
work. 

The  air  was  brisk  and  full  of  oxygen,  the  snow 
was  dazzling  in  the  bright  sunshine,  the  jolly 
tinkle  of  the  sleigh-bells  filled  the  air,  while  a 
flock  of  juncos  sported  in  the  tall  dry  weeds  and 
grasses  that  in  the  fence-corners  barely  showed 
their  drooping  heads  above  their  white  mantle. 

I  felt  the  beauty  of  the  country  and  country  life 
as  never  before,  and  how  petty  seemed  my  disap- 
pointments in  life,  in  the  great  peace  that  seemed 
to  spread  over  the  face  of  Nature !  As  I  went  down 
to  the  oflBce  that  morning,  leaving  my  stock  warm 
and  well  fed  and  my  modest  farm  half  buried  in 
fleecy  clouds  of  snow,  I  thought  how  much  of  life 
and  beauty  is  now  hidden  safe  and  warm  under 
Nature's  blankets,  only  awaiting  that  magic 
summons  to  spring  up  into  active  and  beneficent 
fruition. 

All  that  day  sleighs  dashed  about  town,  and 
wood-sleds  drawn  by  single  teams,  pairs,  and 
fours  thronged  the  streets.  The  farmers  had 
been  waiting  for  the  snow.  This  set  me  thinking. 
What  cleaner,  better,  fresher  farm-work  could 
there  be  than  chopping  in  the  winter  woods. 
That's  it!  I  would  do  it.  Business  was  not  very 
brisk  in  the  office,  and  if  it  were,  there  was  no 
particular  need  of  a  man  being  a  slave  to  his 
profession.   I  had  known  instances  of  men  actu- 


32  FARMING    IT 

ally  drying  up  in  my  profession,  and  being,  as  far 
as  real  usefulness  is  concerned,  "  Like  thin  ghosts 
or  disembodied  creatures." 

The  one  thing  I  needed  to  develop  a  real  home- 
like, woodsy,  farmer-like  feeling  was  to  get  into 
the  woods,  and  load  wood,  and  smell  the  delicious 
fragrance  of  the  pines  and  the  balsam  of  the 
freshly  cut  trunks. 

That  afternoon  I  borrowed  a  single-horse  sled  of 
Daniel,  equipped  with  a  work-harness  and  chain- 
traces,  arranged  with  him  for  a  load  or  two  of 
cord  -  wood  piled  in  a  distant  wood  -  lot,  and 
started  with  a  Hibernian  friend  for  the  lot,  to 
pluck  and  garner  it  for  myself.  Arrived  at  the  lot, 
I  let  down  the  bars  and  drove  along  a  rough 
lumber -road,  through  another  pair  of  bars,  down 
a  hemlock-shaded  path,  where  the  heavily  laden 
branches  dipped  and  showered  us  with  feathery 
masses.  Then  across  a  small  bridge  spanning  a 
frozen,  snow-covered  brook,  until  I  came  to  a 
cleared  lot  dotted  with  piles  of  neatly  corded 
wood. 

In  the  distance  we  could  see  the  smoke  of  a 
shanty  fire,  and  hear  the  songs  of  Canadian 
wood-choppers,  "Habitants  of  story,"  and  the 
ring  and  thud  of  their  axes.  "Jolly,  happy  fel- 
lows," I  thought,  "true,  care-free  sons  of  the 
woods,  without  sordid  thoughts,  without  disturb- 
ing and  unhappy  ambitions  destined  never  to  be 


THE    GALLIC    WAR  33 

rewarded.  They  indeed  have  the  true  secret  of 
happiness.  Enough  to  eat,  enough  to  wear, 
health,  the  fresh  air  laden  with  balsamic  fra- 
grance, never  a  thought  of  money.  Jolly,  happy 
fellows,  they  are  to  be  envied." 

And  so,  intent  on  such  thought,  I  sprang 
lightly  from  our  sled,  donned  my  leather  mittens, 
and  vied  with  Pat  in  loading  cord-wood.  True, 
I  did  not  successfully  vie  with  him,  because  that 
seasoned  veteran  loaded  by  far  the  greater  part  of 
it ;  but  I,  in  a  measure,  superintended  the  job  and 
occasionally  landed  a  stick  on  the  sled. 

We  took  good  measure,  Pat  saw  to  that,  and 
when  we  started  we  were  obliged  to  pry  the  run- 
ners out  of  the  ruts  where  they  had  frozen.  Lady 
M.  pulled  grandly,  and  we  were  smoothly  sailing 
across  the  lot  on  the  down-grade,  when  we  heard 
loud  shouting  in  our  rear,  and  turned  to  see  a 
picturesque  figure  in  blanket-coat,  moccasins, 
and  toque,  wildly  waving  its  hands  and  shouting 
a  jumbled  and  somewhat  incoherent  mixture  of 
French  and  English,  from  which  we  gathered 
that  he  had  some  suspicions  of  the  honesty  of  our 
intentions. 

"Voleur,  arretez-vous,  you  have  ma  hwood 
vole;  par  la  Sainte  Vierge,  you  have  steal  ma 
hwood,  'ere  Bapteme,  bagosh,  seh!" 

Rushing  frantically  to  the  horse's  head,  he 
grasped  the  reins,  as  if  to  prevent  our  escape, 


34  FARMING     IT 

whereupon  Pat  tumbled  off  the  load,  spitting  on 
his  hands  and  exclaiming,  "Dom  the  moonkey, 
lave  me  poonch  th'  Dago  hid  off  him,  whirjoo !" 
And  he  jumped  two  feet  in  the  air  and  cracked  his 
heels  together.  I  violently  restrained  Pat  and 
ordered  him  on  the  load,  which  was  good  general- 
ship on  my  part,  as,  from  the  neighboring  lot, 
twenty  excited  compatriots  of  the  first  gaudy 
brigand  came  piling  over  the  fence,  and  sur- 
rounded us  amid  a  torrent  of  Gallic  expletives. 

"For  the  love  of  hivin,  yer  'anner,"  pleaded 
Pat,  "lave  me  lick  the  twinty  of  thim,  lave  me 
land  one  poonch  on  the  dhirty  moog  of  ould  Plaid 
Belly" ;  by  which  appropriate  title  he  designated 
the  premier  brigand. 

"Keep  quiet,  Pat,"  I  remonstrated,  "this  is  a 
case  for  arbitration." 

"Arbitration  be  dommed,"  growled  Pat,  "wan 
good  belt  in  th'  gob  of  ould  Plaid  Belly  wud  do 
th'  job  aisy." 

However,  I  refused  Pat's  modest  request,  and 
raising  my  hand  impressively,  addressed  the 
leader  in  our  best  Exeter  Cotton  Mill  French. 

"Messieurs,  qu'avez  vous  m'en  voudre;  Ich 
weiss  nicht  was  zie  meinen,  dites-moi,  pour 
I'amour  de  Dieu.    What  is  it  that  it  is  ?" 

Now  this  was  so  plain  that  even  Pat  was  heard 
to  mutter,  "Begob,  he  can  talk  Dago  talk  awl 
right." 


YOU   HAVE  STEAL  MA   HWOOD! 


THE    GALLIC    WAR  35 

"Vous  etes  un  scelerat,  vous  have  steal  ma 
hwood,  mille  tonneurs,  sacre',  bagosh,  me!"  he 
shouted. 

"  'Cre  Bapture,  bagosh,"  responded  the  chorus 
of  voyageurs,  "mille  tonneurs." 

"  Jist  wan  poonch,  yer  'anner,"  pleaded  Pat. 

"Shut  up,  Pat,  I  will  run  this  affair  without 
any  fighting,"  I  replied. 

"  Pardon,  messieurs,  vous  ayez  fait  un  faux  pas. 
J'ai  verkaup  die  bois  von  Herr  Oilman,  a  qui 
appartient  tons  les  bois  herein." 

"II  n'appartient  a  M'sieu  Oilman,  il  appartient 
a  moi.  I  have  it  buy  of  M'sieu  Oilman,  me! "  he 
shouted,  waving  his  arms. 

"Oui,  oui,  bagosh,  c'est  vrai,"  responded  the 
chorus. 

"  Oh,  wirra,  wirra,  't  would  be  aisy,"  mur- 
mured Pat. 

"Monsieur,"  I  continued,  courteously,  "parlez 
un  peu  plus  lentement,  un  peu  langsam.  La 
conversation  rapide  nicht  mir  gefallt." 

"Bien,  m'sieu,"  he  responded  more  affably, 
apparently  soothed  by  my  lingual  attainments, 
"I  have  buy  the  hwood  of  M'sieu  Oilman.  J'ai 
coupe  le  bois  pour  lui,  et  il  m'a  paye  de  I'ar- 
gent,  il  m'a  vendu  le  bois  detache,  for  one  hun- 
ner  twonny-fav  dollar,  bagosh,  seh,  n'est  ce 
pas  t 

"Bagosh,  seh,"  echoed  the  chorus. 


36  FARMING     IT 

"Ich  verstehe  parfaitement,"  I  replied.  "Je 
vous  paierai  pour  les  bois,  si  vous  voulez,"  I  con- 
tinued gracefully. 

Thereupon  smiles  beamed  on  Gallic  faces  and 
peace  seemed  imminent,  much  to  the  disgust  of 
Pat,  who  yearned  for  war. 

"Bien,  m'sieu,"  said  the  other,  *' eef  m'sieu 
me  giv  fav  dollar,  m'sieu  can  eet  have." 

"Th'  robber!  lave  me  — "  began  Pat. 

"Pat,"  I  interrupted,  "we  have  been  trespass- 
ing, and  it  is  only  fair  that  we  should  compensate 
this  gentleman  for  the  annoyance  we  have  caused. 
We  should  be  the  first  to  recognize  the  justice  of 
his  claim,  and  do  what  we  can  to  foster  in  these 
adopted  citizens  a  respect  for  the  law,  that  you 
and  I  as  American  citizens  have." 

"Hill  and  blazes!"  scoffed  Pat,  "wan  good 
poonch  wud  tach  thim  dommed  canucks  more 
rispict  than  fhorty  laws,  and  lave  me  give  'im 
jist  wan  for  loock." 

But  I  refused,  and  handing  a  five-dollar  bill  to 
our  friend,  I  gathered  up  the  reins  and  drove  off, 
not  before  we  heard  our  "  care-free  sons  of  the 
woods,  without  sordid  thoughts,  without  disturb- 
ing and  unhappy  ambitions  destined  never  to  be 
rewarded,"  remark  to  one  another:  — 

"Nom  de  Dieu,  il  a  paye  enormement;  quel 
fou !  he-he-he  'ere  Bapteme." 

And  that  night  when  we  called  on  Daniel  and 


THE     GALLIC    WAR  37 

related  our  experience,  that  guileful  individual 
nearly  had  a  seizure  from  convulsions  of  sinful 
mirth.  But  seriously,  was  that  a  Christian  way 
of  treating  a  man  and  a  brother  ? 


CHAPTER  V 

HENS 

HE  next  day  I  was  so  stiffened  by  my 
somewhat  unusual  exertions  that  I 
fairly  creaked.  So  I  rather  slighted 
the  grooming  of  my  horses,  but  looked 
carefully  to  the  welfare  of  my  thoroughbred 
fowls,  and  was  fully  rewarded  by  seeing  two  on 
the  nests. 

That  day  a  slatted  box  arrived  at  my  office  by 
express,  containing  a  most  magnificent  black- 
red  gamecock.  I  was  out  when  the  expressman 
arrived,  or  I  should  have  required  him  to  deliver 
it  at  my  farm.  As  it  was,  the  bird  kept  up  a  most 
terrific  crowing  during  the  forenoon,  leaving 
some  doubt  in  the  minds  of  casual  callers  or  pro- 
spective clients  as  to  whether  they  were  entering  a 
cockpit,  a  poultry  exhibition,  or  the  unassuming 
office  of  an  attorney-at-law  and  amateur  farmer. 
As  the  charges  had  been  prepaid  by  my  unknown 
benefactor,  I  felt  that  I  could  afford  to  secure 
the  bird's  transmission  to  my  farm  at  the  hands 
of  a  small  boy  and  at  the  expense  of  ten  cents. 

That  noon  when  I  went  to  lunch,  I  first  re- 
paired to  my  barn  to  liberate   the   gamecock. 


HENS  39 

But  somebody  had  evidently  anticipated  my 
humane  desire  to  emancipate  the  prisoner,  and 
I  found  the  box  empty.  A  dreadful  suspicion 
occurred  to  me,  and  I  made  rapid  strides  for  the 
hencoop,  where  I  found  my  fears  confirmed. 

A  battle  had  been  fought,  and  evidences  of  it 
in  the  shape  of  tufts  of  silvery  feathers  scattered 
over  the  pen  in  which  my  beautiful  Hamburg 
cock  had  been  confined  were  abundant,  while 
in  a  corner,  looking  like  a  soiled  and  frayed 
feather-duster,  lay  the  remains  of  that  proud  and 
well-bred  bird.  His  conqueror,  splendid  and  un- 
hurt, scratched  and  curveted  before  the  con- 
sorts of  the  late  deceased  king,  and  crowed  so 
lustily  that  the  very  rafters  rang,  and  occasion- 
ally, as  if  to  dissipate  any  doubt  that  the  ladies 
present  might  have  entertained  of  his  being  the 
"champeen,"  took  a  whack  at  his  antagonist, 
and  plucked  from  the  stiffened  and  prostrate  form 
a  choice  nosegay  of  feathers,  which  he  strewed 
at  the  feet  of  the  penciled  beauties. 

Either  my  instructions  had  not  been  sufficiently 
explicit,  or  that  boy  possessed  a  strong  strain  of 
sporting  blood  in  his  composition.  "If  I  could 
only  catch  that  rascal  I  would  — "  Well,  I 
could  n't  really  say  what  I  would  do,  but  I  prob- 
ably would  have  cross-questioned  him  severely 
for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  just  what  sort  of 
a  fight  the  old  Hamburg  put  up. 


40  FARMING     IT 

The  next  thing  was  to  get  the  gamecock  out 
of  the  pen.  It  was  my  intention  when  I  bought 
those  Hamburgs  to  breed  to  a  feather^  and  not 
allow  any  hybrids  on  the  farm,  but  the  presence 
of  an  alien  rooster  of  undisputed  lineage,  but 
practically  unknown  moral  standing,  in  a  flock 
of  young  and  giddy  female  birds,  mere  school- 
girl biddies  in  fact,  might  excite  in  the  unre- 
generate  a  suspicion  of  a  taint  in  the  blood  of 
their  progeny,  to  say  nothing  of  a  blot  on  their 
moral  escutcheon. 

So  I  opened  the  door  between  the  pens,  stepped 
in,  and  carefully  fastened  it  to  avoid  a  second 
fatality  to  the  Dominique  at  its  hands,  or  rather 
at  its  heels.  While  my  back  was  turned  and  my 
attention  occupied  in  this  task,  the  feathered 
pugilist  struck  me  a  most  vicious  blow  in  the 
calf  of  my  right  leg,  which  hurt  outrageously,  and 
so  angered  me  that  I  rushed  furiously  after  him. 

Away  he  went  round  the  coop,  flapping  and 
swearing  in  shrill  gallinaceous  language,  while 
I  came  right  after  him,  doing  my  best  to  answer 
his  remarks  in  vigorous  English.  Now  any  one 
who  has  endeavored  to  catch  an  adult  and  frantic 
rooster  in  a  small  room,  and  in  the  midst  of  a 
round  dozen  of  hysterical  and  gymnastic  hens, 
in  full  possession  of  astonishing  powers  of  speech 
and  motion,  knows  what  a  dreadful  task  is  before 
one. 


HENS  41 

It  seemed  as  if  every  single  hen  had  been  mul- 
tiplied by  ten,  shedding  shrieks,  squawks,feathers, 
dust,  and  scratches ;  and  as  I  pursued  that  gor- 
geous devil  up,  over,  round,  and  through  the  pen, 
I  was  bombarded  with  hens.  One  frantic  biddy 
collided  with  my  best  stiff  hat  so  violently  that  it 
was  knocked  off,  stepped  on,  and  ruined,  before 
I  was  aware  of  its  loss.  Another  nearly  blinded 
me  as  I  unexpectedly  intercepted  its  arrow-like 
flight  from  one  roost  to  another;  the  number  of 
times  I  bumped  my  head  against  those  roosts 
was  beyond  computation ;  I  stepped  on  the  edge 
of  a  large,  deep  tin  pan  filled  with  water,  and  the 
same  promptly  reared  aloft  and  cast  its  contents 
over  my  soiled,  dusty,  and  feather-covered  per- 
son. Two  hens  escaped  by  dashing  bodily  through 
the  windows,  which  I  had  neglected  tq  have 
properly  protected  by  wire ;  but  at  last  I  caught 
that  infernal  gamecock  by  the  legs,  whereupon, 
finding  itself  caught,  it  stopped  squawking, 
reached  for  my  unoccupied  hand,  and  with  its 
iron  beak  gouged  a  segment  therefrom  and 
struggled  to  bring  its  sharp  spurs  to  play. 

When,  after  rescuing  the  mangled  remains 
of  my  hat  and  immuring  the  murderer  in  a  sepa- 
rate prison,  I  returned  to  my  family  I  was  an 
appalling  sight.  I  was  festooned  with  cobwebs, 
downy  with  feathers,  covered  with  dust,  and 
drenched  with  water.    One  side  of  my  face  was 


42  FARMING     IT 

smeared  with  dirt,  and  the  other  was  seamed  with 
scratches  where  maniacal  pullets  had  deftly 
dealt  me  glancing  blows,  my  hand  was  bleeding, 
and  my  new  hat  ruined. 

However,  I  had  determined  to  become  a  farmer, 
and  all  my  unpleasant  experiences  were  in  a  way 
valuable,  and  would  doubtless  bear  fruit.  In  some 
ways  farming  had  not  proved  exactly  profitable, 
but  it  was  far  more  exciting  than  I  had  ever 
dreamed. 

For  the  week  following  the  chase  of  the  game- 
cock, and  the  tragic  death  of  our  fine  stock  bird, 
I  was  quite  closely  confined  to  the  office  with  an 
epidemic  of  legal  business  that  broke  loose.  It 
seemed  as  if  almost  every  third  man  I  met  was 
tormented  with  an  unconquerable  desire  to  quar- 
rel about  a  right  of  way,  to  institute  criminal  pro- 
ceedings for  the  collection  of  a  civil  claim,  or  to 
file  a  libel  for  divorce  on  untenable  grounds. 

This  tried  me  severely,  for  while  such  business 
is  seldom  remunerative,  and  needs  to  be  sorted 
out  with  the  greatest  care,  the  legal  transaction 
of  the  best  of  it,  to  say  the  least,  adds  nothing  to 
one's  reputation  either  as  a  lawyer  or  a  gentle- 
man, which  terms  should  be,  but  are  not  always, 
synonymous. 

Again,  clients  in  such  classes  of  business  know 
so  much  more  than  their  legal  advisers,  and  are 
so  tenacious  of  their  opinions,  that  in  many  cases 


I   STEPPED   ON  THE  EDGE   OF  A   LARGE,  DEEP  TIN   PAN 


HENS  43 

it  is  almost  impossible  to  get  rid  of  them  without 
resorting  to  violence. 

And  so,  at  the  end  of  the  next  week  I  was  just 
yearning  for  a  taste  of  the  farm,  and  for  a  chance 
to  put  to  the  test  some  of  the  theories  I  had 
been  forming  in  regard  to  the  proper  develop- 
ment of  my  stock  and  the  bringing  my  farm  up 
to  the  standard  set  by  government  publications 
of  the  Agricultural  Department.  I  had  studied 
faithfully  the  various  poultry  books  and  maga- 
zines, and  felt  that  I  could  at  once  detect  that 
grim  destroyer,  roup,  the  moment  I  saw  it ;  and 
for  several  days  I  had,  when  feeding  and  water- 
ing my  fowls,  looked  them  over  with  considerable 
trepidation,  fearful  of  the  dread  scourge,  and  yet 
determined  if  necessary  to  kill,  burn,  and  reduce 
to  infinite  nothingness  any  unfortunate  fowls  that 
might  be  attacked,  and  even  prepared  to  go  to 
the  extreme  length  of  burning  the  hencoop. 

I  also  learned  with  profound  regret  that  there 
was  no  known  remedy  for  fatty  degeneration  of 
the  liver,  or  tumors  in  the  gizzard,  but  that  pip 
could  be  cured  by  certain  preparations  to  be  pro- 
cured only  of  the  advertiser;  that  gapes  and 
cholera  could  be  promptly  cured  by  explicitly 
following  certain  directions  sent  by  mail,  "En- 
close twenty-five  cents  in  stamps,"  which  I  did, 
and  received  "specific  directions"  to  kill  the  af- 
fected specimens  at  once ;  that  bumble-foot  could 


44  FARMING     IT 

be  also  effectually  remedied  by  cutting  open  the 
foot  and  rubbing  in  a  preparation,  the  ingredients 
of  which  could  be  obtained  only  of  the  advertiser ; 
that  this  remedy  was  the  result  of  years  of  study 
at  the  expense  of  thousands  of  dollars. 

I  also  learned  that  there  were  thirty  or  forty 
"best"  remedies  for  vermin,  fifteen  or  twenty 
"only'*  remedies  for  vermin,  and  at  least  a  dozen 
"best  and  only"  remedies  for  vermin.  Indeed, 
so  much  was  said  of  the  ravages  of  vermin  that 
I  felt  quite  crawly  every  time  I  finished  a  poul- 
try magazine. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   REMEDY  AND   THE   DISEASE 

LEARNED  how  to  caponize  fowls, 
at  least  in  theory,  and  when  I  sent  for 
a  price-list  of  caponizing  instruments, 
I  was  deluged  for  weeks  with  pam- 
phlets and  appeals,  and  men  with  beards  and 
without  neckties  called  and  tried  to  sell  me  ex- 
pensive sets  of  instruments. 

I  read  a  particularly  fine  and  smoothly  written 
article  claiming  that,  if  the  moulting  period 
could  be  brought  on  in  June  by  any  method  of 
feeding,  fall  and  winter  eggs  would  be  plentiful, 
and  that  a  fortune  awaited  a  successful  solution 
of  this  vexed  problem.  Indeed,  I  had  been  so 
interested  in  this  matter  that  I  hazarded  another 
twenty-five  cents  as  an  investment  in  one  ad- 
vertiser who  claimed  to  possess  the  secret,  and 
to  be  willing  to  impart  it  at  that  reasonable  figure 
to  all  comers.  I  was  not  particularly  disappointed 
when  I  received  the  following  instructions  :  "  Pick 
the  fowls  thoroughly  without  killing,  about  the 
20th  of  May  in  each  year,  then  let  their  feathers 
grow." 


46  FARMING    IT 

I  had  purchased  two  game-hens  to  make  con- 
finement less  irksome  to  my  gamecock,  and  sent 
for  a  new  Hamburg  cock;  the  hens  were  laying 
well,  and  I  began  to  lay  plans  for  spring  planting. 

Although  spring  was  far  away,  catalogues  were 
to  be  had  for  the  asking ;  and  daily,  in  high  rubber 
boots,  I  walked  over  my  land,  making  plans  to 
have  a  vegetable  garden  here,  some  pear  trees 
here,  a  pie-plant  patch  here,  a  row  of  sunflowers 
by  the  fence,  and  a  grape  arbor  by  the  side  of  the 
barn. 

I  desired  to  add  a  Jersey  cow  to  my  personal 
possessions,  but  could  not  quite  see  my  way  clear 
to  spare  the  time  necessary  to  milk  and  care  for 
her  without  neglecting  the  duties  of  my  profes- 
sion. 

I  was  brought  somewhat  abruptly  from  my 
theorizing  by  an  unexpected  development  in  the 
hen  industry.  One  morning,  on  going  to  feed 
them,  I  found  one  hen  dead  in  a  corner,  headless 
and  badly  gnawed,  —  evidently  the  work  of  rats, 
as  a  hole  in  a  corner  of  the  pen  showed  only  too 
plainly. 

This  was  a  calamity  second  only  to  roup.  I  had 
read  of  whole  communities  of  fowls  ravaged  by 
rats,  and  the  remedy  was  obvious ;  not  traps  or 
cats  or  terriers,  but  ferrets,  the  one  animal  that 
could  pursue  rats  into  their  subterranean  fast- 
nesses and  there  conquer  and  destroy  them. 


REMEDY    AND     DISEASE      47 

I  removed  the  deceased  pullet,  buried  it  in 
the  compost  heap,  plugged  up  the  rat-hole  with 
broken  glass  and  tin,  and  sought  the  latest  poul- 
try magazine.  There  it  was :  "  Five  Hundred 
Ferrets  for  Sale."  Here  again :  "Ferrets  for  sale, 
the  only  means  of  effectually  ridding  your  prem- 
ises of  rats."  And  here:  "Ferrets,  the  friend  of 
poultry,"  and  "Ferrets,  the  preserver  of  fowls." 

I  did  not  want  five  hundred  of  them,  but  thought 
a  pair  of  healthy  specimens  would  be  a  mighty 
good  investment.  The  main  winter  industry  of 
my  farm  was  threatened  with  extinction,  and  it 
behooved  me  to  act,  and  act  with  promptness. 

So  I  went  to  Boston  the  next  day,  although  it 
is  my  principle  never  to  travel  unnecessarily,  ex- 
cept in  the  transaction  of  business  for  a  client, 
and  at  his  expense.  I  went  directly  to  a  bird  store 
on  Portland  Street,  and  inquired  for  ferrets.  I 
was  shown  some  beauties,  —  that  is,  the  pro- 
prietor spoke  of  them  as  beauties,  although  to 
me  they  seemed  snaky,  red-eyed  varmints  of  a 
most  unattractive  and  unprepossessing  appear- 
ance. 

They  had,  however,  some  astonishing  ac- 
complishments, which  amazed  me  greatly.  The 
dealer  put  five  of  them  into  a  cigar-box,  in  the 
cover  of  which  was  a  small  round  hole,  out  of 
which  one  promptly  poked  its  head,  and  seizing  a 
piece  of  raw  meat  the  dealer  held  out  to  it,  hung  to 


48  FARMING     IT 

it  with  a  grip  of  steel,  while  the  box  with  its  entire 
weight  swung  to  and  fro.  Then,  opening  the  box 
and  allowing  two  to  fasten  their  jaws  to  a  piece 
of  meat,  he  took  one  by  the  tail  and  swung  them 
both  over  his  head  without  loosening  their  grip. 
He  handled  them  like  kittens  without  any  dan- 
ger, and  assured  me  they  were  well  trained  and 
harmless,  but  cautioned  me  against  handling 
them  when  they  were  fastened  to  their  natural 
prey,  the  rat. 

I  was  convinced,  and  bought  a  pair.  I  was 
doubtful  whether  or  not  I  should  choose  a  sort 
of  sorrel  and  a  black,  but  finally  decided  on  a 
roan  with  gray  mane  and  tail,  and  a  buckskin 
with  red  eyes,  had  them  safely  wired  in  a  box, 
and  took  the  next  train  back. 

I  could  scarcely  wait  for  the  train  to  arrive  at 
my  station,  so  anxious  was  I  to  try  the  skill  of 
my  new  purchase ;  and  as  soon  as  I  removed  my 
overcoat,  I  put  for  the  henhouse,  opened  the  box, 
and  turned  the  ferrets  down  the  rat-hole,  which, 
in  my  absence,  had  been  widened  materially, 
and  in  they  went. 

No  sooner  had  they  disappeared  than  a  sharp 
squealing  was  heard  far  down  in  the  bowels  of 
the  earth,  and  in  a  moment  the  hole  appeared  to 
boil  over  with  rats.  One  gray  -  whiskered  old 
fellow  started  to  climb  over  me,  and  gave  me  a 
horrible  fright,  but  I  shook  him  off  and  killed  him 


REMEDY    AND     DISEASE      49 

with  a  shovel.  The  rest  darted  out  of  the  half- 
open  door,  and  went  leaping  away  over  the 
snow. 

While  I  was  awaiting  the  reappearance  of  my 
ferrets,  and  after  the  excited  hens  had  calmed 
down,  a  sudden  commotion  in  the  other  coop 
attracted  my  attention,  and  hastily  stepping  in 
I  found  a  fine  pullet  struggling  and  flapping  in 
her  death-agonies,  with  my  buckskin  ferret  hang- 
ing to  her  windpipe.  Seizing  it  by  the  body  with 
one  hand  and  the  moribund  pullet  with  the  other, 
I  tore  it  from  its  quarry,  when  it  turned  upon  me 
and  sunk  its  teeth  in  my  forefinger,  nor  would  it 
let  go  although  I  danced  and  swore  and  shook  my 
wounded  hand  violently.  It  was  only  when  I 
choked  it  nearly  to  death  with  the  other  hand 
that  I  loosed  its  grip,  slammed  it  in  its  box,  and 
fastened  the  cover. 

After  bandaging  my  hand  I  waited  for  the 
roan  to  come  forth.  What  to  do  to  entice  it  from 
its  safe  retreat  I  did  not  know.  For  a  while  I 
whistled.  I  did  not  know  whether  or  not  that 
was  the  proper  salutation,  but  I  tried  it  for 
what  it  was  worth.  It  was  probably  not  good 
form  in  musteline  circles,  for  the  roan  paid  no 
attention  to  it. 

Then  I  tried  the  bleeding  form  of  the  freshly 
killed  hen ;  but  the  wary  animal  evidently  had 
seen  my  rude  treatment  of  the  buckskin,  and 


50  FARMING     IT 

was  resolved  not  to  give  me  an  opportunity  to 
maltreat  it,  and  came  not  forth. 

Finally,  I  had  recourse  to  water  poured  down 
the  hole.  I  was  bound  to  have  that  animal  now 
dead  or  alive,  and  for  half  an  hour  poured  pail 
after  pail  of  water  down  the  hole  without  the  slight- 
est impression.  The  faster  I  poured,  the  faster 
the  water  disappeared  and  the  drier  the  hole 
seemed.  It  was  evident  that  the  hole  was  con- 
nected with  some  great  subterranean  lake  or  cave, 
and  I  could  n't  have  filled  it  by  any  method  short 
of  turning  the  river  through  it. 

And  so,  at  my  wits'  end,  I  devised  the  follow- 
ing scheme.  I  sawed  a  hole  in  a  box,  arranged 
an  entrance  of  wire  that,  like  a  trap  for  homing 
pigeons,  allowed  a  visitor  to  enter,  but  prevented 
a  tenant  from  jumping  his  board-bill,  poked  the 
buckskin  into  the  box,  —  I  did  not  dare  to  han- 
dle that  savage  biter,  —  placed  the  box  near  the 
hole,  and  then,  after  stopping  up  the  other  hole, 
left  them  for  the  night. 

The  next  morning  I  repaired  at  an  unusually 
early  hour  to  the  coop,  and,  to  my  unbounded 
amazement,  found  that  the  buckskin  had  escaped 
and  with  its  mate  had  been  on  a  reign  of  terror, 
and  that  three  of  my  best  birds  lay  foully  mur- 
dered. 

My  indignation  knew  no  bounds.  I  thought 
of  poison,  of  shot-guns,  of  boiling  water,  and 


REMEDY    AND     DISEASE      51 

of  other  cruel  and  drastic  measures,  but  as  a  last 
resort,  and  after  a  practically  accurate  repetition 
of  the  scene  of  the  chase  of  the  gamecock,  caught 
and  removed  all  the  living  hens  from  the  coop, 
procured  two  steel  traps,  baited  them  with  raw 
meat,  and  before  noon  caught  both  marauders, 
which  were  so  badly  hurt  that  I  had  to  kill  them. 

Thus  did  I  learn  another  valuable  but  expen- 
sive lesson.  I  afterwards  was  told  by  a  veteran 
of  experience  that  the  whole  difficulty  could  have 
been  avoided  by  using  muzzles  on  my  ferrets, 
which  would  then  drive  the  rats  away  perma- 
nently without  endangering  my  fowls. 

I  mended  the  broken  windows,  replaced  my  de- 
pleted flock  with  others  of  like  species,  and  for  a 
time  my  farm  life  was  uneventful.  Daily  I  fed 
and  w^atered,  bedded  and  groomed  my  horses, 
and  cared  for  my  hens.  Snow-storms  came,  and 
the  drifts  piled  high  round  my  buildings.  Yet 
it  was  a  pleasure  to  wield  the  broad  snow-shovel 
and  drive  Lady  M.  to  plough  through  the  drifts. 
It  was  also  a  pleasure,  of  a  sunny  afternoon,  to 
saddle  Polly  and  the  pony  and  ride  out  into  the 
country.  The  world  of  white  is  very  beautiful,  the 
air  is  crisp  and  tingling,  the  snow,  hard-beaten  in 
the  roadway,  is  soft,  dry,  and  feathery  at  the  sides. 

But  perhaps  the  pleasure  that  leaves  the  keener 
and  more  complete  sense  of  satisfaction  in  one's 
mind  is  this.    A  cold  biting  wind  from  the  north- 


52  FARMING     IT 

east  has  brought  a  fierce  drifting  snow-storm  in 
its  wake.  All  day  long  it  has  snowed  and  drifted, 
and  with  increasing  cold.  The  storm  has  driven 
pedestrians  indoors,  scarcely  a  sleigh-bell  is 
heard,  while  the  sifting  snow  whirls  and  ed- 
dies and  dashes  against  the  window-panes,  and 
the  wind  wails  and  shrieks  and  sobs  around  the 
building. 

It  is  three  o'clock,  there  are  no  clients,  and  I 
start  for  home.  The  blast  stings  as  I  strike  the 
open,  and  I  have  to  pause  to  get  my  breath,  then 
with  lowered  head  plunge  through  the  drifts, 
beaten,  lashed,  and  staggering  in  the  cutting  wind, 
while  the  fine,  dry  snow  stings  my  face  like 
needles. 

Arrived  at  the  farm,  out  of  breath  and  half- 
frozen,  I  put  on  my  stable  clothes,  a  heavy  sweater, 
lumbermen's  felt  boots  and  a  woolen  toque,  in- 
case my  hands  in  heavy  woolen  gloves,  mix  up  a 
mess  of  hot  mash  with  enough  hard  grain  in  it 
to  last,  and  a  dash  of  cayenne  pepper,  and  stag- 
ger through  the  drifts  to  the  hencoop. 

The  hens  are  already  on  the  roost,  as  the  after- 
noon is  growing  dark  in  the  storm,  but  they  read- 
ily come  down  and  fill  themselves  to  repletion  on 
the  steaming  mess.  I  see  that  all  windows  are 
fast  and  all  water-cans  emptied,  and  when  the 
last  morsel  is  eaten  and  the  satisfied  birds  are 
beginning  to  fly  back  to  their  roosts  and  settle 


REMEDY     AND     DISEASE     53 

themselves  comfortably,  with  little  clucks  and 
chirps  of  satisfaction,  I  leave  them,  shut  and 
lock  the  outer  door,  and  go  to  the  stable. 

Here  I  find  the  snow  so  drifted  that  I  have  to 
kick  it  away  from  the  door  before  I  can  open  it. 
I  lead  the  horses  out  of  their  stalls  into  the  floor, 
stagger  to  the  liouse  and  back  with  pails  of  water, 
then  shake  down  their  hay,  fill  their  grain-box 
and  bed  them  ankle-deep  with  clean,  dry  straw. 

I  then  readjust  their  blankets,  tighten  their 
girths,  and  close  the  door  of  the  stall-room,  leaving 
them  comfortably  bedded  and  fed,  as  warm  and 
comfortable  as  dry  beds  and  tight  quarters  and 
good  food  can  make  them. 

As  I  close  and  lock  the  barn-door,  it  is  dusk  and 
the  storm  is  increasing.  In  the  sheltered  places 
under  the  eaves  and  under  the  roofs  of  the  open 
sheds  colonies  of  English  sparrows  are  gathering ; 
and  as  I  reach  the  house,  change  my  clothes,  and 
take  a  cushioned  rocker  by  the  library  fire,  I  feel 
a  deep  satisfaction  that  the  stock  is  safe  and 
comfortable. 

And  while  the  wind  howls  round  the  house  that 
night,  and  the  snow  dashes  against  the  windows 
and  rattles  on  the  clapboards,  I  sleep  the  better 
for  that  thought. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MY    OLD    FRIEND    NICK*.    A   FAILURE    IN    WHOLE- 
SALE 

S  might  be  expected  from  statements 
made  in  the  preceding  chapters  I  was 
no  novice  in  the  raising  of  poultry. 
Indeed,  on  one  occasion  I  had  gone 
into  poultry-culture  in  a  sort  of  wholesale  way 
which  bid  fair  to  make  or  break  me  and  my  part- 
ner, and  did  one  or  the  other  thing  to  both  of  us,  as 
the  story  will  show. 

It  is  many  years  now  since  my  old  friend  Nick 
died.  A  queer,  whimsical  little  chap  was  Nick. 
A  weazened,  crooked,  bandy-legged  little  man 
of  fifty-five  or  sixty,  with  a  face  like  that  of  a  little 
gnome  fashioned  out  of  a  hickory  nut,  such  as 
we  occasionally  see  in  small  stores.  His  nose  was 
immense,  and  had  acquired  a  sidewise  twist 
that  to  follow  would  keep  him  traveling  in  an 
endless  circle  (circles  are  endless  come  to  think 
of  it),  while  his  smile  would  provoke  an  answer- 
ing smile  from  a  graven  image.  A  sparsely  grown 
beard  of  the  color  of  badly  cured  salt  hay,  and  of 
that  peculiarly  wiry  quality  of  the  hair  in  cheap 


MY    OLD    FRIEND     NICK     55 

mattresses  or  haircloth  sofas,  completed  a  per- 
sonality at  once  grotesque  and  pathetic. 

Nick's  voice  was  of  a  queer,  high-pitched  qual- 
ity, his  pronunciation  of  the  broadest  cockney, 
and  his  profanity  picturesque  and  voluble  almost 
beyond  belief.  Like  the  steamboat  mate  in  the 
book : — 

"  He  would  curse  things  with  an  emphasis 
So  extremely  rich  and  rare, 
Aa  to  savor  of  the  fervency 
And  eloquence  of  prayer." 

And  yet  despite  the  physical  disabilities  under 
which  Nick  labored  I  liked  him,  respected  him, 
and  was  genuinely  amused  whenever  I  saw  or 
spoke  with  him.  And  I  was  not  alone  in  this. 
No  child  feared  him,  no  dog  passed  him  without 
a  wag  of  the  tail,  and  no  human  being  ever  re- 
ceived other  than  kindness  at  his  hands. 

He  was  a  weaver  by  trade,  and  years  before 
had  come  from  England  with  his  brother  'Arry, 
whose  faithful  shadow  he  was  until  'Arry's  tragic 
death  years  later.  'Arry,  also  a  weaver,  had 
prospered,  and  was  a  person  of  considerable  im- 
portance in  the  community. 

Nick  had  not  prospered.  He  had  worked,  like 
*Arry,  faithfully  and  hard,  but  his  earnings  went 
like  smoke.  What  'Arry  expressed  a  desire  for, 
Nick  would  get  for  him.  What  'Arry's  son  and 
daughter  desired,  Nick  gave  freely  and  without 


56  FARMING    IT 

stint.  Whenever  his  friends  needed  help,  they 
went  to  Nick.  He  gave  what  he  had  without 
question,  freely,  cheerfully,  with  that  true  spirit 
of  giving  that  asks  no  return. 

So  much  was  he  bound  up  in  the  fortunes  of 
'Arry,  that  when  the  manufacturing  company  for 
which  they  both  worked  saw  fit  to  dismiss  'Arry 
on  account  of  some  difference  of  opinion  as  to  his 
earning  capacity,  Nick  at  once  gave  notice,  and 
retired  in  huge  disgust  and  amid  a  storm  of  pro- 
fanity that  lasted  for  the  entire  week. 

"An'  sayes  th'  owd  mon  t'me,"  said  Nick  one 
day  in  explanation  of  the  matter,  " '  Nick,  th'art 
worket  ower  weel  twonty  yeer,  wheerfore  needst 
thago?'" 

"  An'  Hi  sayes  to  'e, '  An'  ma  brither  'Arry  's  na 
gude  enow  t '  work  for  tha,  it 's  to  '  ell  tha  canst 
go  wi  tha  owd  mill  for  aw  Nick ! '  An'  wi'  thot 
Hi  stamped  hout  th'  dure.  An'  th'  owd  mon  wa 
graidely  sore  ower  it." 

'Arry  was  killed  one  day  while  crossing  the 
railroad  track,  and  with  his  death  came  a  great 
change  into  Nick's  life.  He  was  not  less  kind  to 
his  friends,  or  less  thoughtful  of  the  welfare  of 
those  to  whom  he  was  indebted  for  a  home.  But 
he  was  not  the  careless,  jolly,  cheerful  Nick  of  old. 

My  intimate  acquaintance  with  Nick  began 
about  this  time,  in  connection  with  the  settlement 
of  'Arry's  estate.    Nick,  while  not  deriving  any 


MY     OLD     FRIEND     NICK     57 

benefit  from  the  estate,  nevertheless,  in  his  zeal 
to  further  the  settlement,  succeeded  in  involving 
himself  in  several  legal  entanglements,  from 
which  it  was  my  privilege  to  rescue  him,  and  I 
thereby  earned  his  gratitude  and  admiration  to 
such  a  degree  that  he  delivered  frequent  and 
high-pitched  assertions  to  the  effect  that  "  *Enry 
was  a  'ell  of  a  feller."  He  further  paid  me  the 
following  (we  hope  undeserved)  compliment: 
"  Hi  like  tha,  'Enry,  dormned  if  Hi  don't.  Tha  't 
more  lang-leggit  nor  'Arry,  but  tha'  sweers  for 
aw  th'  world  like  'Arry."  I  accepted  the  homage 
thus  given,  but  had  mental  reservations  as  to  my 
ability  to  "sweer  like  'Arry,"  who  was  an  artist 
in  that  line. 

The  want  of  worldly  goods  under  ordinary 
circumstances  did  not  affect  Nick  in  the  least  de- 
gree ;  yet  I  surmised  from  some  of  his  remarks 
that  he  was  beginning  to  feel  that  he  was  prac- 
tically penniless.  His  nephew,  who  had  suc- 
ceeded to  'Arry's  farm,  had  generously  offered 
him  a  home,  but,  as  Nick  feelingly  remarked,  — 

"  Johnny  's  aw  reet,  but 't  is  na  th'  same.  Wi' 
'Arry  things  were  sair  differ ;  aw  thot  'Arry  'ad 
were  mine,  hand  aw  thot  Hi  'ad  were  'Arry's." 

I  suggested  that  he  go  back  to  the  mill,  but  he 
was  profanely  adamant  in  his  refusal. 

"Blawst  th'  blank-dashed  owd  mill,"  was  his 
sole  comment;  and  then  he  added:  "Tha  sees. 


58  FARMING    IT 

'Enry,  Hi  always  wanted  a  'en  farm.  Hi  cood 
raise  cheekins  hout  o'  dure-knobs,  'n'  fatten  'em 
an  sawdoost." 

Now  I  had  always  experienced  a  consuming 
desire  to  own  a  farm,  and  raise  chickens  and 
Jersey  cattle,  and  lambs  with  bells  and  blue 
ribbons  on  their  necks,  and  merry  milkmaids 
with  short  dresses,  and  wands  crisscrossed  with 
bright  ribbon  in  their  hands,  and  large  blue 
rosettes  on  their  fairy  slippers.  It  might  be  that 
Nick  was  the  messenger  of  fate  to  lead  me  to  the 
much  desired  Utopia. 

"How  would  you  like  to  go  into  partnership 
with  me,  Nick  ?  "  I  asked  him. 

"Weel,  'Enry,  an'  'ow  wouldst  tha  divide?" 
queried  Nick  shrewdly,  while  a  hideous  smile 
overspread  his  nut-cracker  face. 

"  Well,  Nick,"  I  said, "  I  will  furnish  the  money, 
you  raise  the  chickens,  and  at  the  end  of  the  sea- 
son, we  will  go  snacks." 

"Aw  reet,  'Enry,"  he  said,  "th'  art  fairer  than 
Hi  thot  ower  lawyer  would  be  " ;  and  with  that 
I  reached  down  and  Nick  reached  up,  and  we 
shook  hands  on  the  partnership. 

The  next  day  Nick  informed  me  that  Johnny 
had  allowed  him  the  use  of  a  quarter  acre  of 
land  for  a  chicken-yard,  and  secured  from  me 
enough  money  to  purchase  posts  and  wire  for 
a  fence  thereunto  to  appertain  and  belong. 


MY    OLD    FRIEND    NICK     59 

For  two  or  three  days  Nick  worked  tremen- 
dously, and  then  appeared  at  my  office  and  ob- 
tained, not  without  some  difficulty,  a  further 
stipend  for  the  purpose  of  procuring  setters  and 
eggs.  Having  bled  me  freely  he  departed  in  great 
good  humor,  remarking  as  he  closed  the  door,  — 

"  'Enry,  we'll  fill  the  'ole  bloomin'  town  wi' 
cheek  ins." 

The  next  day  he  passed  the  office  driving 
Johnny's  old  white  mare,  hitched  to  a  rattle  cart 
containing  an  immense  dry-goods  box,  upon 
which  Nick  was  perched  like  Punch  on  the  top 
of  a  circus  van.  He  was  followed  by  Johnny's 
savage  dog,  which  took  advantage  of  the  day 
of  freedom  to  pitch  into  all  strange  dogs ;  and 
Nick  was  obliged  frequently  to  climb  from  his 
perch  and  with  a  cart-stake  to  rush  into  a  whirl- 
wind of  fighting  curs  and  a  medley  of  objur- 
gatory sounds  something  like  this :  "  'I  theer !  'I ! 
blawst  tha  bloomin'  heyes,  ugr-r-r-yi-yi-ugr-r- 
r-raugh-o-raugh-thump-whack-down  tha  Tige- 
yi-yi-ugr-r-r-raugh-thump-whack-yi-yi-dom  tha 
hide — coom  awa  noo!"  And  then,  having  tem- 
porarily restored  peace,  he  would  climb  on  his 
van  and  proceed  until  the  next  interruption,  when 
he  would  again  descend,  and  with  the  assistance 
of  the  dogs  rehearse  the  entire  programme. 

Toward  evening,  as  I  was  coming  out  of  the 
office,  I  heard  a  most  terrific  rattling,  barking, 


60  FARMING    IT 

and  squawking,  and  from  down  the  street,  amid 
a  cloud  of  dust,  came  the  old  white  mare,  urged 
to  her  full  speed.  On  the  box  sat  Nick,  who  had 
taken  the  precaution  to  chain  the  dog  in  the 
wagon,  from  which  position  the  animal  tugged 
and  barked  at  a  half  score  of  excited  dogs  that 
surrounded  the  wagon,  swearing  vigorously  in 
dog  language  at  their  assailant  of  the  morning. 

On  seeing  me,  Nick  pulled  up  so  suddenly  as 
to  hurl  the  dog  heels-over-head,  while  he  himself 
narrowly  escaped  shooting  over  the  old  mare's 
head,  and  the  collar  of  that  patient  animal  went 
to  her  ears. 

"  Got  thirty  o'  'em,  'Enry,  but  'ad  to  pay  a  'ell 
of  a  price.  'Ens  is  gone  hup,"  he  shrieked ;  and 
away  he  went  clattering  down  the  street,  while 
I  mused  apprehensively  over  what  his  idea  of 
"a  'ell  of  a  price"  might  be. 

The  next  day  he  made  a  further  demand  on  me 
for  funds  wherewith  to  purchase  eggs  and  sup- 
plies, and  for  a  time  I  heard  no  more  of  Nick. 
I  had  expressed  to  him  some  fear  that  his  vigor- 
ous measures  of  the  day  before  might  have  shaken 
some  of  the  hens'  determination,  or  seriously 
impaired  their  maternal  instincts,  but  was  reas- 
sured when  he  remarked  that  it  was  "Heasy 
enow  to  make  a  'en  set,  if  a  mon  knowed  'ow." 

A  few  days  before  the  expected  arrival  of  the 
chicks,  I  went  down  to  the  farm  to  inspect  his 


AMID  A  CLOUD  OF   DUST  CAME  THE  OLD   WHITE  MARE 


MY    OLD    FRIEND    NICK     61 

plant  and  methods.  His  idea  was  original,  amus- 
ing, and  effective.  In  a  spacious  and  well-venti- 
lated room  he  had  arranged  a  series  of  boxes 
containing  the  nests  of  straw,  upon  each  of  which 
a  hen  was  thrust,  with  a  ventilated  cover  of 
boards  super-imposed;  and  a  huge  stone  upon 
that  served  to  keep  straw,  hen,  and  eggs  firmly  in 
place.  Each  day  the  hens  were  liberated  in  re- 
lays, allowed  twenty  minutes  to  feed,  drink,  dust 
and  stretch,  and  at  the  expiration  of  the  recess, 
were  chased,  caught,  and  re-imprisoned  amid  a 
chorus  of  squawks,  a  shower  of  dust  and  feathers, 
and  original  outbursts  of  language  from  Nick. 

In  spite  of  this  rough  method,  his  success  was 
phenomenal,  and  about  four  hundred  chickens 
arrived  in  due  time.  A  few  days  previous  to  their 
arrival  Nick  had  made  a  further  demand  for 
funds  to  purchase  barrels,  corn-meal,  cracked 
corn,  wheat-screenings,  baker's  waste,  barley, 
and  other  necessary  supplies. 

The  barrels  were  arranged  facing  the  east, 
the  open  ends  flush  with  the  ground,  the  closed 
ends  depressed  a  few  inches,  I  demurred  to  this 
arrangement  fearing  the  effect  of  the  east  wind, 
but  was  silenced  when  Nick  replied,  — 

"Aye,  mon,  doost  tha  not  know  th'  soon  cooms 
oop  i'  th'  east  ?  An 't  is  th'  soon  thot  makes  cheeks 
grow." 

This  seemed  truly  plausible  and  I  subsided. 


62  FARMING    IT 

And  now  for  a  while  the  affairs  of  the  partner- 
ship flourished.  The  chickens  throve,  Nick 
throve,  and  the  venture  seemed  in  a  fair  way  to  be 
remunerative  in  the  extreme.  To  be  sure  we  lost 
a  few  chicks  by  the  incursions  of  an  immense 
gray  rat,  which  Nick  caught  red-handed  and 
stamped  into  a  furry  flapjack.  Certain  other 
animals  in  the  neighborhood  also  disappeared, 
leaving  no  trace  of  their  whereabouts. 

"Johnny  say,  it  do  beat  'ell  wheer  th'  owd 
tomcat  'a'  gone,"  said  Nick  one  day ;  "  but 
'Enry,"  —  and  here  Nick  lowered  his  voice, 
glanced  apprehensively  around,  and  whispered 
hoarsely,  "Nick  could  tell  tha  summat  about  it." 

Frequent  visits  of  my  partner  at  my  house  and 
oflfice  kept  me  posted  in  the  progress  of  partner- 
ship affairs.  These  visits  were  at  times  a  trifle 
inopportune,  as  when  on  one  occasion  we  were 
entertaining  the  good  pastor  of  the  church  at 
tea,  Nick  suddenly  appeared  at  the  dining- 
room  door  with  the  astonishing  information  that 
a  "blawsted  mink  'ad  killed  five  cheeks,  hand 
th'  owd  yeller  'en  'ad  killed  three,  like  a  dash 
dashed  owd  fu'." 

On  another  occasion  Nick  bolted  into  my 
court  in  great  excitement,  and  disturbed  my 
judicial  poise  by  loudly  informing  me  that 
"Johnny  'ad  fun'  out  aboot  th'  owd  tomcat  an' 
was  a  raisin'  'ell." 


MY    OLD    FRIEND    NICK     63 

But  on  the  whole  fortune  smiled  on  the  partner- 
ship and  the  partners.  Yet,  alas,  one  night,  when 
the  chicks  were  about  as  big  as  half-grown 
pigeons,  a  driving  storm  of  wind  and  rain  came. 
All  night  the  wind  roared  from  the  east,  the  rain 
poured,  the  loose  shutters  banged,  and  my 
thoughts  wandered  to  the  partnership  assets. 

The  morning  dawned  bright  and  beautiful, 
and  at  five  o'clock  I  came  downstairs.  On  open- 
ing the  side  door  I  nearly  fell  over  the  convulsed 
frame  of  my  small  partner,  sitting  doubled  up 
on  the  threshold,  plunged  in  unavailing  grief. 

"What  in  the  world  is  the  matter,  Nick.?"  I 
asked. 

"'Enry,'*  gasped  Nick,  "Hi  want  ye  to  coom 
down  to  th'  'ouse,  hand  take  hevery  blank-dashed 
cheekin  to  'ell  wi'  ye.  The  business  'as  gone  to 
'ell!"  And  Nick  lifted  up  his  voice  and  fairly 
squalled  in  the  extremity  of  his  sorrow. 

Although  bursting  with  laughter  at  his  ridicu- 
lous appearance,  I  did  my  best  to  soothe  him,  and 
finally  he  became  composed  sufficiently  to  lead 
the  way  toward  the  scene  of  our  financial  col- 
lapse. 

Not  a  word  of  explanation  would  Nick  give, 
only,  "Tha'll  see  soon  enow,  'Enry.  Hi  thot 
Hi  was  a  gude  'en  man,  but  tha  knowst  more  nor 
Hi." 

Arrived  at  the  farm  a  most  ridiculous  and  as- 


64  FARMING     IT 

tonishing  sight  met  my  gaze.  Arranged  in  per- 
fect order  in  rows  across  the  yard  were  about 
three  hundred  and  fifty  chickens,  stifiF,  cold,  and 
drenched,  with  their  poor  little  legs  sticking 
straight  in  air  as  if  each  had  raised  both  hands 
to  call  public  attention  to  its  individual  case. 
The  rain  had  been  driven  by  the  east  w  ind  into 
the  depressed  barrels  and  had  drowned  nearly 
our  entire  colony. 

The  sight  of  the  orderly  rows  of  deceased 
chicks,  and  of  Nick's  frightfully  solemn  face, 
was  too  much,  and  I  sat  down  on  a  barrel  and 
roared  and  roared  until  Nick  began  to  be  infected 
and  a  hideous  smile  crept  over  his  funny  old  face. 

"Weel,  'Enry,"  he  said  finally,  '"owtha  canst 
laugh  't  is  more  than  Hi  can  do.  Hi '11  'ave  no 
mon  lose  money  by  me.  So  take  th'  rest  o'  'em 
awa." 

It  took  me  some  time  to  convince  him  that  as 
a  square  man  he  must  not  desert  a  partner  in 
distress,  or  a  sinking  ship ;  and  before  I  left  he 
had  visibly  cheered  up  and  was  busily  engaged 
in  burying  the  dead. 

No  further  calamity  happened,  and  early  in  the 
fall  I  received  my  dividend  in  the  shape  of  about 
twenty  of  the  gauntest,  long-leggedest  chickens 
the  world  ever  saw.  W  hen  the  flood  had  rushed 
in  on  them,  they  had  weathered  the  storm  on 
the  principle  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  which 


MY    OLD    FRIEND    NICK      65 

in  their  cases  meant  the  long-legged  ones.  But 
their  constitutions  had  been  so  taxed  by  the  long 
hours  of  immersion,  that  their  bodies  had  not  kept 
pace  with  the  abnormal  development  of  their 
shanks. 

Most  of  them  were  roosters,  and  whenever  one 
would  crow  it  would  fall  prostrate  with  the  effort 
and  lie  there  kicking  until  up-ended  by  some 
kindly  hand.  And  they  were  compelled  to  sit 
down  when  they  ate  or  drank  in  order  to  reach 
their  food  without  falling  headlong  into  the  dish. 
And  their  voices,  — such  voices!  like  nothing  in 
the  world  so  much  as  Nick's  laugh. 

When  I  commented  on  their  unusual  develop- 
ment, Nick  remarked  with  a  humorous  twinkle 
in  his  eye  and  a  shrewd  twist  of  his  mouth,  — 

"Ay,  mon,  tha  shouldst  na  find  fault  wi'  thot, 
th'  art  built  graidely  lang-leggit  thaself." 

The  partnership  books,  consisting  of  chalk 
memoranda  on  the  inside  of  the  harness-room 
door,  were  duly  examined  and  found  correct. 
What  these  twenty  curiosities  cost  me  I  have  never 
told.  I  never  shall.  Neither  Nick  nor  I  cared  to 
discuss  that  part  of  it,  but  we  made  somewhat 
elaborate  plans  to  try  again  the  next  year  and 
to  retrieve  our  shattered  fortunes. 

Poor  Nick!  he  died  that  winter  of  a  sud-^ 
den  attack  of  pneumonia.  Before  he  died  he 
asked  for  me ;  but  I  was  away,  and  did  not  know 


66  FARMING    IT 

of   his   sickness   and   death  until  after  the  fu- 
neral. 

Poor  old  Nick !  A  weazened,  crooked,  bandy- 
legged man.  But  you  had  a  good,  faithful  heart 
that  has,  I  trust,  found  'Arry. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SETBACKS 

OLD  and  snow,  however  exhilarating 
and  beautiful,  cannot  last  forever; 
and  it  is  well  they  cannot,  for  toward 
the  end  of  February,  when  the  sun 
begins  to  run  higher  and  rise  earlier,  one  feels 
a  strange  longing  for  a  breath  of  the  spring,  for 
a  smell  of  the  moist  earth. 

But  March  comes,  frequently  with  deceptive 
mildness,  when  the  streets  run  rivers  of  muddy 
water,  the  snow  turns  dull  and  dingy,  the  earth 
appears  in  sheltered,  sunny  places  on  the  banking, 
the  English  sparrows  fight  and  chatter  and  shriek 
in  the  naked  trees,  and  in  the  evening  the  drip, 
drip,  drip  of  water  from  the  eaves  lulls  one  to  rest 
with  dreams  of  spring. 

But  in  the  morning  what  a  change  has  taken 
place !  A  bitter  wind  roars  like  a  lion  in  the  trees, 
the  air  seems  full  of  needles,  the  sun  shines 
brightly,  but  does  not  warm.  Not  a  sparrow  is  in 
sight.  Huddled  behind  blinds  and  shutters  and 
whatever  serves  as  a  shelter  from  the  searching 
wind,  they  puff  themselves  into  balls  of  feathers, 
and  wait  for  warmer  weather. 


68  FARMING     IT 

"Ac  venti,  velut  agmine  facto, 
Qua  data  porta  ruunt  et  terras  turbine  perflant." 

Again  a  few  days  of  mild  and  sunny  forenoons 
and  a  chill  creeping  into  the  air  in  the  afternoon, 
with  thin  needles  of  ice  threading  the  little  pools 
of  water  in  the  road,  followed  the  next  day  by 
a  heavy  snow-storm  which  changes  into  rain  and 
sleet. 

But  one  day,  and  I  never  forget  that  day,  a 
clear  liquid  warble  is  heard  in  the  air,  a  wander- 
ing disembodied  voice,  the  first  spring  song  of  the 
bluebird.  I  am  thrilled  and  look  everywhere, 
but  in  vain.  I  hear  the  clear  notes  but  cannot  see 
the  musician,  until  all  at  once  he  alights  on  a 
fence- post,  or  on  the  roof  of  a  shed,  and  warbles 
his  flute-like  tones. 

And  one  warm  Sunday  a  few  days  later  I  walk 
into  the  garden.  The  soil  is  drying  a  bit  in  the 
higher  places,  but  is  soft  and  muddy  in  the  hol- 
lows. The  sun  shines  warmly,  a  Sabbath  stillness 
is  over  everything.  The  hens  prate  cheerfully, 
a  cow  tethered  in  the  sun  in  front  of  a  neighbor's 
barn  lows  comfortably,  the  shrill  call  of  a  robin 
is  heard,  and  spring  really  seems  here. 

The  first  duty  of  an  experienced  gardener  is 
to  make  hotbeds  and  therein  cultivate  beets, 
turnips,  cabbage,  cauliflower,  lettuce,  tomatoes, 
and  other  vegetables.  So  I  sent  for  some  planks, 
sawed  them  the  right  lengths,  and  spent  a  part 


SETBACKS  69 

of  several  days  and  the  whole  of  several  even- 
ings in  the  furnace-room  of  the  cellar,  pounding 
and  hammering  the  parts  together  and  screwing 
on  glass  covers  with  hinges. 

I  made  three  of  these  beds,  and  having  ar- 
ranged suitable  sites  for  them  on  the  south  side 
of  the  barn,  secured  Mike  as  chief  motive- power, 
and  started  to  hoist  them  out.  Then  it  was  that 
I  found  the  cellar  door  was  several  inches  too 
narrow  to  allow  them  to  pass  through,  which- 
ever way  I  turned  them.  So  I  was  forced  to  take 
them  apart  and  reunite  their  component  parts  on 
the  outside.  This  took  so  much  time  that  it  was 
not  until  two  days  later  that  I  had  them  in  place. 

I  had  been  told  that  greenhouse  or  conserva- 
tory compost  would  make  excellent  growing  soil, 
and  so  I  imported  a  few  loads  at  considerable  ex- 
pense from  a  neighboring  florist,  procured  seed, 
and  sowed,  as  I  was  afterwards  informed,  enough 
seed  to  furnish  a  market-garden  of  an  hundred 
acres.  It  was  a  most  delightful  pastime,  and  in 
an  astonishingly  short  time  the  tiny  garden- 
shoots  of  thousands  of  young  plants  were  peeping 
above  the  soil. 

It  was  delightful  to  see  how  warm  and  com- 
fortable it  was  inside  that  frame.  Indeed,  it  was 
necessary  to  raise  the  tops  during  the  sunny  days, 
to  avoid  burning  the  plants.  And  I  could  almost 
see  them  grow  from  hour  to  hour. 


70  FARMING     IT 

For  about  ten  days  I  guarded  them  as  care- 
fully as  one  would  tend  a  new-born  babe,  and 
was  rewarded  tenfold  by  the  astonishing  pro- 
gress the  plants  made.  One  warm  sunshiny  day 
I  opened  the  windows  about  halfway.  Toward 
night  a  warm,  moist  south  wind  began  blowing, 
and  before  dark  a  fine,  almost  summer-like  rain 
was  falling,  just  the  thing  the  plants  needed.  So 
I  opened  the  covers  wider,  that  the  plants  might 
get  the  benefit  of  the  rain  without  the  danger  of  a 
heavy  drenching  fall,  which  might  wash  them  out 
of  the  ground.  The  next  morning  I  found  that 
the  unexpected  had  happened.  The  wind  had 
veered  around  to  the  northeast,  it  had  become 
bitterly  cold,  a  biting  northeaster  was  blowing, 
and  my  plants  were  frozen  stiff. 

It  was  a  week  before  the  ground  thawed  enough 
to  plant  more  seeds ;  but  I  persevered,  and,  in 
about  ten  days  after  planting,  had  a  second  crop 
growing  finely. 

I  had  also  improved  my  time  and  had  engaged 
a  farmer  with  a  yoke  of  oxen  to  plough  my  land. 
I  had  considerable  diflSculty  in  getting  a  yoke 
of  oxen,  because  that  useful  animal,  the  ox,  was 
an  exceedingly  rare  bird  in  our  vicinity.  But  I 
always  wanted  my  farm  ploughed  by  oxen,  and 
I  persevered  until  I  found  a  yoke.  It  was  some- 
what more  expensive  than  the  quicker  method 
of  ploughing  with  horses,  but  I  preferred  oxen. 


SETBACKS  71 

And  so,when  they  arrived,  I  persuaded  the  farmer 
to  allow  me  to  drive. 

How  often  had  I  admired  the  skill  shown  by 
the  wielders  of  the  goad  in  managing  their  un- 
wieldy charges.  Some  of  those  old-time  farmers 
were  exceedingly  graceful  in  using  the  goad. 
How  easily  they  would  slide  it  across  the  shoulders 
of  the  near  ox  and  prod  the  off  ox  into  activity. 
So  I  fain  would  do ;  and  when,  after  setting  the 
plough,  the  horny-handed  yeoman  grasped  the 
handles  and  signaled  me  to  go  ahead,  I  poised 
the  goad,  made  certain  circular  motions  with  it 
in  the  air,  and  in  deference  to  time-honored  but 
obsolete  custom,  vociferated,  "Hubbuck  thar, 
huggolden,  hibboad,  whoa,  heish " ;  and  they 
settled  into  the  yoke,  and  mellow  sounds  of  rend- 
ing earth  followed. 

This  was  delightful,  and  at  the  end  of  the  fur- 
row I  turned  them  under  his  instructions,  and 
started  again  across  the  field.  Now  I  noticed 
that  the  off  ox  was  shirking  and  allowing  his  mate 
to  do  most  of  the  pulling,  and  to  bring  him  up 
even  I  slid  the  goad  across  the  near  ox's  shoulder, 
leaned  my  weight  on  it,  and  jabbed  him  power- 
fully with  the  brad,  at  the  same  time  letting 
out  a  hoarse  "Haw!"  that  waked  the  echoes. 

I  have  never  known  a  draught  animal  to  re- 
spond so  quickly  to  encouragement  as  did  this  one, 
for  the  moment   he  felt  the  brad   he  bellowed 


72  FARMING    IT 

loudly,  stiffened  his  tail,  and  broke  into  a  lum- 
bering gallop,  dragging  his  mate,  the  plough,  and 
the  ploughman  in  his  wake.  The  plough,  caught 
by  the  nose,  turned  over,  the  ploughman,  cling- 
ing to  the  handles  like  a  drowning  man  to  a  straw, 
shot  into  the  air  like  a  catapult,  turning  a  com- 
plete somersault,  while  the  oxen,  racing  across  the 
fields,  brought  up  one  on  each  side  of  an  oak  tree, 
which  stopped  their  mad  flight. 

The  yeoman  showed  more  irritation  over  the 
affair  than  I  thought  its  importance  warranted, 
and  said  things  that  were  calculated  to  pain  one's 
finer  feelings.  Indeed,  he  absolutely  refused  to 
continue  his  engagement  under  any  terms  what- 
ever, and  to  my  great  regret  departed  without 
even  saying  good-by.  And  I  had  so  wanted  to 
learn  to  drive  oxen !  And  now  I  might  never  get 
another  chance.   It  was  too  bad. 


^^JS> 


-■•  "'''^'^-J'S/' 


%< 


BHOT  INTO   THE  AIR  LIKE  A   CATAPULT 


CHAPTER  IX 

MORE   SETBACKS 

URING  all  of  this  time  my  hotbeds 
had  been  thriving,  and  although  my 
neighbors  were  busy  planting  their 
gardens,  I  had  done  no  more  than  lay 
out  a  good-sized  vegetable  garden,  and  have  it 
horse-ploughed  with  the  rest  of  the  field.  This 
I  harrowed  with  Lady  M.  I  knew  that  by  trans- 
planting my  artificially  cultivated  vegetables  I 
would  be  far  in  advance  of  my  neighbors  in  the 
growth  of  my  garden,  and  so  I  was  in  no  hurry 
to  jeopardize  my  plants  with  another  cold  snap. 

I  am  not  entirely  correct  when  I  say  I  had  done 
no  more  than  lay  out  a  garden  patch.  I  had  no- 
ticed with  much  disgust  and  concern  that  the 
first  green  things  that  appeared  were  the  hideous 
and  unsightly  burdocks,  which  require  no  cultiva- 
tion, and  which,  if  not  promptly  checked,  spread 
like  the  Asiatic  cholera  and  kill  out  every  other 
kind  of  vegetation. 

So  I  acted  with  great  promptness  and  thorough- 
ness, and  not  only  cut  them  down  with  a  scythe, 
but  spent  the  greater  part  of  a  sunny  afternoon 
in  carefully  grubbing  up  each  individual  root. 


74  FARMING    IT 

and  burning  the  entire  collection  in  a  bonfire  of 
kerosene-soaked  refuse. 

I  regarded  this  as  the  best  day's  work  I  had 
accomplished  on  the  farm,  until  I  found  some 
days  later  that  I  had  utterly  eradicated  what  was 
probably  the  finest  bed  of  pie-plant  in  the  com- 
munity, and  of  all  plants  in  the  world,  pie-plant 
was  the  one  I  most  loved. 

I  was  quite  cast  down  about  this,  and  when 
this  calamity  was  followed  by  a  succession  of 
trials  and  reverses  in  my  farm  labor,  I  felt  almost 
disposed  to  close  my  house  and  take  rooms  at  a 
hotel.  First,  I  forgot  again,  so  careful  was  I  not 
unduly  to  expose  the  growing  plants  to  the  sud- 
den changes  of  our  Northern  climate,  to  raise  the 
glass  covers  for  the  whole  of  an  unusually  warm 
and  sunny  day,  and  as  the  beds  were  practically 
air-tight,  and  the  drawing  power  of  the  glass 
very  effective,  I  was  again  dismayed  to  find  the 
plants  wilted  and  lifeless,  but  this  time  from  ex- 
treme heat  and  dryness. 

Then,  to  add  to  my  discomfort  and  discour- 
agement, a  long  cold  rain  set  in,  which  was  fol- 
lowed by  chill  overcast  skies ;  and  when  at  last 
the  sun  condescended  to  shine,  the  witch-grass 
which  the  weather  had  stimulated  to  its  utmost, 
while  checking  every  other  growth,  had  made  such 
enormous  increase,  that  the  cultivation  of  my 
field  had  become  an  impossibility. 


MORE     SETBACKS  75 

The  thorough  harrowing  I  had  given  the  garden 
patch  alone  had  saved  it  for  further  experiments. 
Well,  I  was  disappointed,  as  I  had  looked  for- 
ward to  at  least  an  acre  and  a  half  of  corn,  beans, 
and  squashes. 

So  I  set  to  work  in  the  garden,  and  planted 
sweet  corn,  lettuce,  beets,  cauliflower,  carrots, 
pole-beans,  and  sowed  nasturtiums  the  whole 
length  of  the  yard,  or  about  three  hundred  feet. 

The  green  things  were  showing  in  my  neigh- 
bors' gardens,  and  I  was  far  behind  them,  but  I 
fondly  hoped  that  by  extra  care  and  cultivation  I 
might  arrive  first.  But  in  order  not  to  be  entirely 
distanced,  I  went  to  town  and  bought  at  a  grocery 
store  several  boxes  of  tomatoes  and  cabbage- 
plants,  and  set  them  out  in  regular  order  in  the 
most  conspicuous  part  of  the  garden. 

I  also  bought  a  couple  of  hundred  strawberry- 
plants,  cleared  a  patch  of  witch-grass  by  actually 
picking  it  out  with  a  fine-toothed  comb,  and 
set  them  out  in  regular  cadence. 

The  field  was  now  quite  overgrown  with  witch- 
grass,  and  much  to  my  astonishment  a  great  va- 
riety of  other  weeds  were  shooting  up.  Evidently 
the  dressing  placed  on  the  land  the  winter  before 
had  been  filled  with  seeds.  A  casual  examination 
of  the  specimens  disclosed  pigweed,  ragweed, 
live  -  forever,  chickweed,  dandelion,  purslane, 
nettle,  plantain,  skunk-cabbage,  bulrush,  as  well 


76  FARMING     IT 

as  cucumber,  pumpkin,  squash,  toadstool,  mush- 
room, and  mullein  leaf. 

This  worried  me  a  good  deal  until  my  friend 
Daniel  informed  me  that  provided  I  mowed  the 
growth  before  the  seeds  became  ripe,  I  would 
get  a  noble  crop  of  hay  the  second  year. 

A  few  days  after  this,  and  in  the  first  week  of 
May,  I  noticed  one  morning  that  my  tomato- 
plants  had  suddenly  wilted.  I  pulled  one  up  and 
examined  the  root  for  wire-worm,  cut-worm  or 
other  subterranean  varmint  that  might  have 
preyed  upon  the  damask  of  its  cheek,  but  could 
find  nothing.  Then  I  bent  to  my  work,  and  on 
my  knees,  examined  them  one  by  one  with  the 
utmost  care ;  and  before  I  got  half  down  the  first 
row  my  search  was  rewarded  by  finding  a  striped 
bug,  evidently  the  potato -bug  of  contempora- 
neous history. 

Certainly  eternal  vigilance  is  the  price  of  a  suc- 
cessful market-garden.  I  saddled  Polly  and  flew 
down  town,  grossly  violating  the  statutory  reg- 
ulations in  respect  to  the  speed  limit  of  eques- 
trians. 

I  bought  a  little  green  package  of  Paris  green, 
and,  remounting,  flew  back  even  faster.  I  mixed 
up  a  pailful  of  the  required  consistency,  and 
showered  the  poor  limp  plants.  Then  I  dressed 
and  went  down  town,  anticipating  a  marked 
change  in  the  appearance  of  things  on  my  return. 


MORE     SETBACKS  77 

True  enough,  when  I  did  return  I  found  that 
a  change  had  taken  place,  but  not  just  the  change 
I  had  anticipated,  for  two  of  my  hens  had  scaled 
their  wire  fence,  imbibed  freely  of  what  was  left 
of  the  contents  of  the  pail,  and  now  lay  lifeless 
and  with  their  clawS  sticking  stiflfly  in  the  air  as  if 
imploring  pity,  while  the  plants  were  more  limp 
than  before.  I  again  sprinkled  the  plants,  put  the 
pail  away  in  safety,  buried  the  hens,  and  had 
lunch. 

That  night  there  was  no  change  in  the  flabbi- 
ness  of  the  plants,  but  considerable  discoloration 
was  perceptible.  The  next  morning  they  were 
so  black  that  I  almost  gave  up  hope,  but  admin- 
istered another  sprinkling  and  left  them. 

At  noon  I  again  consulted  my  friend  Daniel, 
who  viewed  the  remains,  asking  some  pointed 
questions,  and  then  said:  "Why,  you  blooming 
lunatic,  did  n't  you  know  that  we  had  a  sharp 
frost  yesterday  morning  ?  Well,  there  was,  and 
your  tomato-plants  were  frost-killed.  If  you  only 
got  up  in  the  morning  as  I  do,  you  would  n't 
have  been  spending  the  time  and  money  in  poison- 
ing potato-bugs  when  they  ain't  hatched  yet,  and 
won't  be  for  two  months." 


CHAPTER  X 

GRAMP   AND   THE   GAMECOCK 

NE  thing  that  made  farm-life  addi- 
tionally interesting  and  pleasant  was 
that  my  father  had  moved  his  family 
directly  opposite  my  house;  and  as  he 
took  a  hearty  interest  in  farming,  although  I  have 
reason  to  believe  he  knew  but  little  more  than  I 
did  about  it,  he  took  occasion  to  come  over  about 
every  day  to  give  me  gratuitous  advice. 

Now  it  is  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  that  de- 
lightfully frank  old  gentleman  to  fail  to  recog- 
nize the  fact  that  I  have  grown  either  in  body  or 
mind  since  the  time  I  was  about  twelve  years  of 
age,  and  so  he  frequently  criticises  me  severely, 
even  going  to  the  extent  of  fervent  oratory  when- 
ever my  methods  of  managing  my  affairs  do  not 
coincide  with  his  views,  and  whenever  a  very 
considerable  amount  of  obstinacy  that  I  have  in- 
herited from  this  same  choleric  gentleman,  impels 
me  to  have  my  own  way. 

I  do  not  find  fault  with  his  peculiarities  in  this 
regard.  Indeed,  I  rather  enjoy  them  and  recog- 
nize them  as  a  sort  of  paternal  privilege.    More 


GRAMP    AND    GAMECOCK    79 

than  this,  I  know  perfectly  well  from  my  ex- 
perience on  one  occasion  (when  I  arrived  breath- 
less and  just  in  time  forcibly  to  prevent  an  am- 
bitious attempt  by  him  to  thrash  a  man  half  his 
age,  and  fully  his  size,  who  had  intimated  casu- 
ally that  my  legal  attainments  were  not  quite  up 
to  the  mark)  that  he  would  not  tolerate  any  criti- 
cism of  me  from  any  one  else. 

Now  my  respected  father  spent  a  good  deal 
of  his  spare  time  in  superintending  operations  on 
my  farm,  and  in  that  respect  was  of  great  assist- 
ance to  me.  There  was,  however,  one  thing  in 
which  I  was  disposed  to  criticise  his  eflficiency. 

Most  of  the  unemployed  help  in  our  town  spent 
a  large  percentage  of  their  time  in  the  House  of 
Correction  for  drunkenness,  and  in  the  intervals 
between  sentences  worked  at  odd  jobs  until  they 
received  pay  enough  to  go  on  a  convivial  '*  bat," 
and  when  rounded  up  in  the  Police  Court,  took 
whatever  sentence  awaited  them  with  cheerful 
acquiescence. 

Knowing  this,  I  made  it  a  rule  never  to  pay 
laborers  of  this  class  until  they  had  finished  their 
work.  Now,  these  men  knew  me  from  bitter  ex- 
perience, and  also  knew  my  respected  father  for 
reasons  of  a  contrary  nature ;  and  so  whenever 
they  felt  the  desire  for  alcoholic  stimulants 
coming  over  them,  they  found  no  diflSculty  in 
wheedling  an  advance  "on  account"  from  the 


80  FARMING     IT 

old  gentleman,  upon  their  sworn  statement  that 
they  wanted  it  for  the  necessaries  of  life;  where- 
upon they,  to  the  old  gentleman's  surprise,  at 
once  proceeded  to  exhilarate,  and  would  fre- 
quently return  in  a  most  hideous  state  of  inebria- 
tion, and  endeavor  to  argue  the  matter  with  me 
until  I  would  be  obliged  to  have  them  removed 
by  the  police.  And  so  the  farming  industry  in  our 
particular  location  would  be  brought  to  a  stand- 
still. 

Again,  father  believed  that  the  domestic  fowl 
would  yield  more  returns  if  allowed  to  range  freely 
over  my  premises,  at  least  until  seed  was  sowed. 
I  rather  favored  his  point  of  view,  and  thought 
that  a  flock  of  neat  fowls  looked  well  on  a  lawn 
or  about  the  buildings. 

But  my  wife  took  the  opposite  view,  and 
showed  a  deplorable  pride  of  opinion  in  the  mat- 
ter, and  the  frequent  spectacle  of  an  agile  woman 
in  "specs"  pursuing  squawking  fowls  with  a 
broom,  added  much  to  the  joy  of  the  neighbors. 

Now,  I  was  bound  to  keep  fowls,  and  my  wife 
was  bound  they  should  not  be  kept  on  the  lawn. 
She  was  unquestionably  right  in  the  matter,  and 
so  a  compromise  was  entered  into.  The  fowls 
were  to  be  let  out  only  at  stated  intervals,  when 
they  could  be  under  the  charge  of  the  old  gentle- 
man, who  engaged  to  see  that  they  did  not  tres- 
pass on  the  lawn  or  dooryard. 


GRAMP    AND    GAMECOCK    81 

This  seemed  a  fair  and  equitable  arrangement, 
and  was  entered  into  with  much  enthusiasm  by 
the  old  gentleman,  to  whom  sitting  in  the  sun, 
smoking,  and  watching  hired  men  and  hens 
"scratch  gravel"  was  a  most  congenial  employ- 
ment. 

He  was  particularly  pleased  with  the  game- 
cock, and  never  tired  of  watching  it  and  extolling 
its  brilliant  colors  and  its  great  courage.  And 
when  that  valiant  bird  sent  an  inquisitive  dog 
yelping  from  the  premises,  and  chased  the  family 
cat,  spitting  and  swearing,  up  a  tree,  he  was  out- 
spoken in  his  joy. 

It  was  his  custom  to  let  the  pens  of  fowls  out 
at  different  times,  and  in  about  an  hour  to  lure 
them  back  to  their  quarters  with  handfuls  of 
grain.  In  this  way  he  had  established  consider- 
able familiarity  with  the  fowls,  which  bred  in  the 
gamecock  that  contempt  which  is  the  usual  re- 
sult of  familiarity. 

One  day  in  following  his  regular  programme 
the  old  gentleman  found  the  grain-bin  almost 
entirely  empty,  so  much  so  that  he  was  obliged  to 
immerse  his  head  and  shoulders  in  the  bin  and 
scrape  around  on  the  bottom  with  a  grain  mea- 
sure to  get  enough  for  the  fowls.  While  this  was 
happening  the  gamecock  stepped  around  the 
corner  of  the  barn-door  in  quest  of  adventure. 
Seeing  this  unusual  object,  he  stopped  to  con- 


82  FARMING     IT 

'template  it,  and  at  the  sight  his  wrath  grew. 
Here  was  an  unknown  something  that  apparently 
needed  a  lesson.  It  was  alive  because  it  moved. 
That  was  enough.  It  defied  him.  He  would  in- 
vestigate it  promptly. 

And  investigation  with  a  gamecock  meant 
instant  and  vigorous  action.  The  fighting  bird 
spread  its  hackles,  took  a  short  run,  launched 
itself  in  the  air,  and  drove  its  sharp  spurs  home 
with  all  the  power  of  its  strong  wings.  The  re- 
sult was  equally  astonishing  to  the  gamecock 
and  to  his  innocent  and  unsuspecting  antagonist. 

With  a  yell  that  could  have  been  heard  half 
a  mile,  the  old  gentleman  straightened  up, 
bumping  his  head  resoundingly  against  an  over- 
hanging beam.  With  a  vigorous  cuss  word  he 
launched  the  grain  measure  at  the  gamecock, 
and  followed  this  with  a  hammer  that  lamed  an 
innocent  pullet  for  life. 

When  I  returned  from  the  office  that  night  I 
heard  his  views  of  the  transaction,  and  it  is  but 
justice  to  him  to  state  that  I  never  heard  a  more 
cogent  or  dramatic  recapitulation  of  the  affair. 
That  night  when  all  was  dark  I  boxed  the  game- 
cock up  and  sent  him  away,  where  I  trust  he  has 
become  the  founder  of  a  long  line  of  beautiful 
birds.  But  it  was  many  days  before  the  old 
gentleman  resumed  his  seat  on  the  bench. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  GRANGE 

NE  evening  in  June,  I  was  sitting  on 
a  bench  contemplating  the  growth  of 
the  vegetable  garden,  the  astonishing 
developments  of  the  pigweed  in  the 
field,  and  the  inferiority  of  our  neighbor's  crops, 
when  I  was  approached  by  a  friend  from  the 
country,  the  successful  manager  of  a  productive 
and  extensive  farm,  and  my  prospective  member- 
ship in  the  Grange  was  solicited.  Perhaps  I  am 
in  error  to  say  that  he  requested  me  to  apply  for 
admission  to  the  organization,  for  in  fact  he  so 
managed  the  conversation  that  I  was  the  actual 
suppliant. 

The  Grange  in  our  state  is  a  most  powerful  and 
extensive  organization,  probably  having  as  many 
members,  as  much  enthusiasm,  and  fully  as 
many  enjoyable  festivals  as  any  other  organiza- 
tion, and  it  is  certainly  a  privilege  to  belong  to 
it;  and  so,  when  it  was  casually  intimated  that 
my  ownership  of  so  extensive  a  farm  as  my  two- 
acre  patch  appeared  to  be  might  qualify  me  for 
admission  into  that  society,  I  was  at  once  inter- 


84  FARMING     IT 

ested.  I  was  a  little  proud  of  my  success  as  an 
amateur  farmer,  although  I  did  not  care  much 
about  estimating  the  cost  of  my  garden  and  my 
other  farm  property.  It  was  also  suggested  by 
this  friend  that  the  Grange  exercised  a  most 
powerful  political  influence,  and  that  any  one 
desiring  political  preferment  could  do  no  better 
than  to  apply  for  admission.  I  replied  that  I  had 
no  political  ambition  whatever ;  that  I  preferred 
to  be  a  plain  and  unobtrusive  farmer,  and  live  a 
life  as  near  to  the  soil  as  is  compatible  with  the  life 
of  a  country  attorney. 

I  was,  however,  prepared  to  follow  any  method 
to  compass  my  ambition  to  become  a  member  of 
the  Grange,  and  when  I  asked  what  the  requisites 
were  for  admission,  I  was  informed  that  good 
character,  and  ability  to  pay  dues  and  to  perform 
manual  labor  in  farm-work  were  the  chief  re- 
quisites. As  I  had  never  been  detected  in  any 
offense  that  would  subject  me  to  the  criminal 
laws  of  the  state,  and  as  my  moral  character  was 
not  sufficiently  stained  to  endanger  my  prospects, 
I  was  informed  by  my  friend  that  these  two  re- 
quisites would  pass  muster ;  but  that  I  must  show 
by  actual  demonstration  that  I  was  able  to  do  at 
least  one  day's  farm-work,  and  my  friend  ad- 
mitted that  he  had  some  doubts  on  that  subject. 

On  professing  my  willingness  to  try  to  follow 
him  in  a  day's  work,  he  suggested  that  if  I  would 


THE     GRANGE  8S 

come  to  his  house  the  next  morning,  prepared  to 
begin  work  at  his  usual  hour  and  work  all  day 
with  him  in  the  corn-field  without  "blenching 
from  the  helm,"  he  would  recommend  my  ad- 
mission, and  after  complimenting  me  on  the  ex- 
cellency of  my  garden  patch,  satirically  remark- 
ing that  we  were  "goin'  t'  hev  a  powerful  crap 
er  pigweed,"  he  went  his  way. 

The  next  morning  I  was  up  at  three  o'clock,  fed 
Polly,  put  on  a  suit  of  brown  overalls  with  jersey, 
a  pair  of  stout  shoes,  and  an  old  felt  hat.  At  half- 
past  three  I  had  fed  and  saddled  that  animal,  and 
with  hoe  in  hand  prepared  to  mount. 

Now,  Polly  is  an  extremely  nervous  animal  and 
somewhat  aristocratic  in  her  taste,  and  she 
strongly  objected  to  being  mounted  by  any  one 
dressed  as  I  was.  She  was  also  deeply  apprehen- 
sive that  I  was  intending  to  give  her  a  "  bat"  with 
that  hoe;  consequently  when  I  approached  to 
mount  her  she  backed  away,  wheeled,  and  despite 
my  utmost  efforts,  would  not  remain  still  long 
enough  for  me  to  get  foot  in  the  stirrup.  Finally, 
after  leaning  the  hoe  up  against  a  tree  and  back- 
ing her  into  a  corner  I  managed  to  mount.  I  then 
approached  the  tree  by  devious  ways,  and  not 
without  great  diflSculty  succeeded  in  getting  near 
enough  to  grasp  the  hoe,  when  she  bolted. 

Down  Front  Street  she  went  like  lightning, 
narrowly  escaping  shipwreck  in  rounding  a  cor- 


86  FARMING    IT 

ner  that  so  many  years  before  had  proved  disas- 
trous to  me  when  as  a  boy  we  raced  the  minister. 
As  I  went  over  Great  Bridge,  white-robed  figures 
leaned  from  the  windows,  evidently  thinking  that 
either  Paul  Revere  or  the  headless  horseman  was 
once  more  on  the  war-path. 

By  the  mile  stretch  on  Hampton  Road  we 
swept  like  a  simoom,  when,  as  my  flying  steed  was 
somewhat  winded,  I  pulled  her  to  half-speed  and 
turned  down  the  long  hill  leading  to  Kensington. 

Although  the  distance  was  about  four  miles 
from  my  house,  I  did  the  same  in  what  I  believe 
to  be  record  time,  and  arrived  astride  my  foaming 
charger  and  still  clinging  to  the  hoe  which  had 
been  the  chief  cause  of  her  mad  flight. 

I  aroused  my  farmer  friend  from  his  beauty 
sleep,  much  to  his  disgust,  and  after  breakfast- 
ing with  him  went  to  the  corn-field  and  there 
wrought  manfully  throughout  the  day.  Although 
I  had  the  advantage  of  my  friend  in  many  ways, 
he  being  a  small  man  and  fully  twice  my  age, 
yet  I  was  put  to  great  straits  to  keep  up  with  him, 
and  when  supper-time  came  was  tremendously 
fagged.  After  supper,  when  I  was  contemplating  a 
leisurely  and  pleasant  ride  home,  a  terrific  thun- 
der-storm came  up,  and  I  dashed  home  in  the  al- 
ternating glare  and  blackness  of  a  summer  storm 
in  somewhat  less  time  than  I  went  over.  My  load, 
however,  was  lighter,  for  I  thought  both  hands 


THE     GRANGE  87 

would  be  fully  occupied  in  restraining  my  uncer- 
tain steed  and  preserving  my  balance.  The  next 
day  I  was  in  a  condition  of  stiffness  quite  impos- 
sible to  describe,  but  a  few  days  later  it  wore  off, 
and  I  was  notified  by  my  friend  that  my  applica- 
tion for  admission  to  the  Grange  had  been  favor- 
ably received  and  acted  upon,  and  that  I  was  to 
present  myself  for  initiation  at  a  certain  date.  I 
would  be  violating  the  secrecy  enjoined  on  me  by 
the  rules  of  the  organization  to  say  anything  about 
the  initiation.  It  is  suflficient  to  say  that  I  passed 
it  and  lived. 

I  felt  greatly  honored  a  short  time  afterwards, 
and  after  attending  one  or  two  meetings,  at  being 
notified  to  deliver  an  address  before  the  meeting 
of  the  Pomona  Grange,  which  was  to  be  held  in 
our  town  in  about  a  week  after  my  invitation  to 
speak.  To  say  that  I  jumped  at  the  chance  would 
be  expressing  it  feebly.  Invitations  to  speak  in 
public  were  quite  rare  in  my  life,  and  the  only 
speeches  that  I  had  made  were  arguments  before 
juries,  judges,  or  referees,  in  matters  pertaining 
to  my  profession,  and  these,  I  might  say  in  pass- 
ing, were  not  sufficiently  numerous  to  mark  me 
among  successful  advocates;  and  so  for  a  week 
I  neglected  my  family,  my  farm,  and  my  office, 
while  composing  an  address  of  marked  excellence, 
and  calculated  to  make  my  position  as  a  member 
of  the  Grange  solid. 


88  FARMING    IT 

The  exercises  were  to  be  held  in  a  large  hall 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  oration 
and  collation  were  to  be  preceded  by  a  business 
meeting.  Shortly  after  two  o'clock  I  arrived  at  the 
hall,  attempted  to  enter,  and  finding  the  door 
fastened,  announced  my  presence  by  a  sounding 
knock.  In  reply  I  heard  some  one  from  within 
informing  those  present  that  an  alarm  was  made 
at  the  outer  court,  or  words  to  that  effect. 

I  imagined  that  orders  were  given  from  within 
by  those  in  authority  to  ascertain  the  reasons  for 
the  alarm,  and  to  be  prepared  to  repel  any  un- 
authorized ruflSan  who  might  attempt  to  enter 
the  sacred  precincts  of  the  Grange  Hall.  I  felt 
assured  that  such  was  the  case  when  the  door 
opened  and  the  largest  man  I  had  ever  beheld 
appeared  on  the  threshold  and  hoarsely  inquired 
what  my  purpose  was. 

I  shrank  perceptibly  before  this  dignified  and 
powerful  individual,  and  informed  him  with 
much  humility  that  I  wanted  to  come  in.  He  in 
return  demanded  the  pass-word,  and  in  my  con- 
fusion I  was  utterly  unable  to  give  it.  I  informed 
him  timidly  that  I  had  forgotten  the  pass-word, 
but  if  he  would  kindly  furnish  me  with  one  I 
would  immediately  return  it. 

In  reply  he  laid  his  hand  in  a  wholly  fraternal 
manner  upon  my  shoulder,  called  me  brother, 
opened  the  door,  and  to  my  great  confusion. 


THE     GRANGE  89 

marched  me  the  length  of  the  hall,  between  rows 
of  staring  men  and  curious  women,  to  the  plat- 
form, where  I  was  confronted  by  a  small  but 
imposing  gentleman  who  sat  at  a  desk,  clad  in 
the  oflScial  regalia  of  the  Order  and  surrounded 
by  other  oflBcials  of  equal  gorgeousness,  where- 
upon the  large  gentleman  made  the  following  ad- 
dress: "Most  Worshipful"  something  or  other, 
I  have  forgotten  what,  "  I  present  to  your  oflScial 
notice  this  young  man,  whom  I  have  cause  to  be- 
lieve and  do  believe  is  a  worthy  member  of  this 
most  worthy  organization,  but  who,  unfortu- 
nately, has  been  so  unmindful  of  his  duty  as  not 
to  have  furnished  himself  with  the  requisites  for 
admission,  or,  in  other  words,  does  not  know  the 
pass- word.  What  are  your  distinguished  wishes 
in  relation  to  the  case  ?" 

"Most  Worthy"  something  or  other,  it  would 
be  a  violation  of  the  rules  of  the  Order  to  say  just 
what,  "you  may  remove  the  alleged  worthy 
member  to  the  waiting-room,  and  inform  him, 
should  he  adduce  suflScient  proof  to  you  of  his 
membership  in  this  order,  of  the  pass-word, 
that  when  the  necessary  and  important  business 
of  this  meeting  is  finished  he  will  then  be  re- 
admitted." 

During  this  exchange  of  weighty  civilities  I 
had  been  growing  hot  and  cold  by  turns,  as  I  was 
naturally  of  a  modest  disposition  and  was  greatly 


90  FARMING    IT 

embarrassed  at  my  undue  prominence  and  by  the 
curious  and  amused  glances  of  several  hundred 
"  fair  women  and  brave  men  "  ;  and  so  when  I  was 
conducted  stumblingly  to  the  ante-room,  and  was 
about  to  be  subjected  to  a  searching  inquiry,  I 
excused  myself  for  a  moment,  and  struck  out 
for  home ;  and,  as  far  as  I  know,  that  organiza- 
tion is  still  awaiting  my  return  and  the  delivery 
of  that  famous  speech. 


CHAPTER   Xn 

TUBKETS   AXD   A   FOOTRACE 

ID  you  ever  think  that  one  of  the  main 
reasons  of  the  difficulty  our  farmers 
have  of  realizing  more  than  a  moder- 
ate competency  from  the  cultivation 
of  a  New  England  farm  is  the  want  of  a  good 
market  ? 

The  cities  and  large  towns  are  few  in  number 
and  so  small,  and  the  Boston  markets  for  farm 
products  of  the  perishable  kinds  are  supplied  by 
the  larger,  nearer,  and  more  fertile  farms  and 
market  gardens  of  suburban  towns. 

But  for  hardy  perennials,  such  as  chickens, 
ducks,  lambs,  goats,  calves,  and  woodchucks, 
there  is,  and  ever  has  been,  a  fairly  good  market, 
and  much  money  has  been  made  in  the  cultiva- 
tion of  such  products. 

Thirty  or  forty  years  ago,  and  as  far  prior 
thereto  as  the  memory  of  man  runneth,  even  to  the 
time  the  first  white  man  landed  in  America  and 
on  the  solar  plexus  of  the  amber-hued  aborigine, 
the  sound  of  the  turkey  was  heard  in  the  land  and 
vied  with  the  song  of  the  birds,  the  nasal  tones 


92  FARMING    IT 

of  the  lusty  husbandman  berating  his  sluggish 
cattle,  the  bleating  of  sheep,  the  lowing  of  cattle, 
and  the  grunting  and  squealing  of  fat  pigs,  all  of 
which  went  to  make  up  a  pastoral  symphony  or 
bucolic  tout  ensemble.  Daily  the  flock  of  bronze 
beauties  descended  to  the  fields  and  woods,  where 
they  industriously  put  in  from  twelve  to  fourteen 
working  hours  in  hunting  down  grasshoppers, 
katydids,  crickets,  and  other  vermin,  and  nightly 
did  they  festoon  the  apple  trees,  the  roofs  of  sheds 
and  barns,  and  the  seats  of  farm-wagons  with 
their  plump  bodies. 

In  those  days  the  raising  and  marketing  of 
turkeys  formed  one  of  the  principal  sources  of 
income  for  the  farmer  or  the  farmer's  helpmeet. 
They  were  raised  in  two  ways.  The  most  profit- 
able method  was  to  enter  your  neighbor's  orchard 
when  the  family  were  asleep,  and  carefully  and 
without  noise  raise  the  drowsy  turkeys  from  their 
roosting  places,  and  market  them  in  a  distant 
county  before  morning  broke. 

The  element  of  chance  that  entered  into  the 
transaction  and  occasionally  involved  those  in- 
terested in  this  industry  in  expensive  legal  pro- 
ceedings rendered  this  method  slightly  unpopu- 
lar, although  the  percentage  of  profit  was  very 
considerable. 

The  other  and  more  popular  method  was  to  al- 
low the  woman  of  the  household  to  take  entire 


TURKEYS  93 

charge  of  the  flock,  and  to  hold  the  proceeds  for 
her  personal  use  and  adornment. 

To  this  circumstance  the  beautiful  sables  that 
have  been  handed  down  in  country  families  owe 
their  origin.  Our  grandmothers,  great-  and  great- 
great-grandmothers  developed  great  fleetness  of 
foot  in  avoiding  the  lightning  charge  of  irate 
cock-turkeys  weighing  forty  or  more  pounds, 
and  a  wide  range  of  geographical  knowledge  in 
seeking  and  housing  the  immature  flocks  when 
a  rain-cloud  appeared  on  the  horizon. 

Indeed,  many  of  our  long-distance  pedestrians 
and  short-distance  sprinters  of  to-day  have  come 
to  their  full  powers  by  a  careful  cultivation  of  a 
direct  inheritance  from  athletic  great-great-grand- 
mothers. But  of  late  years  turkey-raising  as  a 
local  industry  has  not  flourished,  and  the  New 
Hampshire  turkey  is  almost  extinct. 

What  is  the  reason  ?  One  has  it  that  the  in- 
creasing liberality  of  the  modern  farmer  hus- 
band is  such  that  his  wife  obtains  her  heart's  de- 
sire simply  for  the  asking,  and  is  not  obliged  to 
raise  live-stock  for  a  living.  Another,  that  mar- 
riages between  the  different  sexes  in  the  turkey 
family  have  been  allowed  within  those  degrees 
of  consanguinity  that  in  the  human  species  are 
prohibited  by  law,  and  the  result  has  been  the 
production  of  a  race  of  turkey  degenerates  pre- 
disposed to  paresis,  suicide,  and  kindred  ills. 


94  FARMING     IT 

Still  another  says  that  an  insect  known  as  the 
borer,  equipped  with  a  cast-iron,  auger-like  pro- 
boscis, working  on  a  swivel,  bores  holes  in  the 
bird's  crop  and  lets  its  contents  exude  with  the 
innocent  life  of  the  victim. 

This  man  affirms  that  another  insect  bores  into 
the  ears  of  the  young  bird  and  drives  it  to  suicide. 
One  says  it  is  over-feeding,  another  starvation. 
One  advises  leaving  the  birds  to  nature,  another, 
highly  artificial  measures.  It  reminds  me  of  the 
old  definition  of  climate  as  given  by  our  old 
friend  Guyot's  "Common  School  Geography.'* 

"Climate  is  heat  and  cold,  moisture  and  dry- 
ness, healthfulness  or  unheal thfulness."  I  well 
remember  my  childish  wonder  that  one  term 
could  embrace  so  many  contrary  characteristics. 

In  thinking  matters  over,  I  finally  became  con- 
vinced that  the  opportunity  had  arrived  to  make 
my  name,  like  that  of  our  national  emblem, 
"Known  and  honored  throughout  the  world." 
To  invent,  discover,  and  develop,  to  patent  or 
copyright  a  process  for  preserving  the  life  of  the 
New  Hampshire  turkey,  was  to  put  it  into  the 
power  of  every  farmer  to  remove  the  mortgage 
from  his  ancestral  acres,  to  put  money  in  his 
purse,  to  give  his  daughters  lessons  in  elocution, 
and  to  allow  his  wife  to  join  the  "Daughters," 
and  to  live  happy  ever  afterwards.  Perhaps  as 
"Shute,  the  turkey  man,"  my  name  might  go 


TURKEYS  95^ 

pin  wheeling  through  the  ages  to  come,  neck  and 
neck  with  the  names  of  Buffalo  Jones,  Scroggs 
the  Wyandotte  man,  the  inventor  of  Mennen's 
Toilet  Powder,  and  kindred  celebrities. 

So  I  invested  in  a  pair  of  mammoth  bronzes 
that  were  displayed  in  a  window  of  a  Boston 
store,  and  awaited  their  arrival  with  ill-concealed 
anxiety. 

For  three  nights  subsequent  to  the  purchase 
of  the  birds  I  drove  to  the  station  with  a  huge 
crate,  which  I  had  fastened  to  the  pung  so  firmly 
that  it  prevented  me  from  using  the  sleigh  for 
any  other  purpose,  and  for  three  nights  I  re- 
turned disappointed.  On  the  fourth  night  I  found 
them  waiting  in  a  crate  fully  as  Jarge,  upon  which 
freight-bills  were  due  suflBcient  to  freight  a  horse 
to  the  Pacific  slope.  This,  with  the  amount  al- 
ready paid  for  the  birds,  made  my  original  in- 
vestment somewhat  disquieting.  However,  I 
loaded  the  new  crate  on  the  old  one,  tied  it  as 
well  as  I  could  with  the  hitch  -  rope,  climbed 
stiffly  to  the  seat,  and  started  for  home. 

Respected  reader,  did  you  ever  try  to  drive  a 
hard-bitted  horse  with  one  hand  and  hold  in  two 
crates  weighing  about  a  ton  each,  and  laden  with 
shifting  ballast  in  the  shape  of  agile  and  wildly 
terrified  turkeys .?  It  is  a  trick,  let  me  tell  you.  I 
covered  the  distance  between  the  station  and  my 
house  in  several  seconds  less  than  the  record,  and 


96  FARMING     IT 

pulled  both  arms  a  foot  or  more  beyond  their 
normal  reach  while  so  doing. 

I  was  so  anxious  to  release  my  turkeys  that  I 
neglected  to  unhook  the  mare,  and  when  after 
considerable  diflficultyl  dragged  forth  the  cock- tur- 
key by  one  hind-leg,  he  beat  my  hat  over  my  ears 
with  his  huge  wings,  covered  me  with  dust  and 
dirt,  and  so  frightened  the  mare  that  she  went 
through  the  narrow  door  like  a  flash  of  lightning, 
leaving  a  pung  with  broken  shafts  and  a  goodly 
part  of  the  harness  on  the  outside. 

I  was  too  much  occupied  with  the  turkey  to  pay 
much  attention  to  the  mare,  and  after  a  brief  sea- 
son of  collar-and-elbow,Gr8eco-Roman,  hitch-and- 
trip,  and  catch-as-catch-can,  I  dragged  the  un- 
willing old  bird  from  his  retirement,  left  him  in 
the  loft,  swelling  and  spreading,  and  dashed  down 
after  the  hen,  suddenly  reflecting  that  I  had  left 
the  crate  open. 

I  found  her  standing  in  the  open,  with  out- 
stretched neck  and  tail  half-'spread.  Awed  by 
my  commanding  appearance,  or  possibly  by  the 
fact  that  I  had  so  many  feathers  on  me  that  she 
mistook  me  for  a  strange  turkey-cock  of  disre- 
putable appearance,  she  started  off  at  a  high  rate 
of  speed  and  I  followed  at  a  hand-gallop.  The 
going  was  heavy  and  I  soon  overtook  her,  fell 
over  her  prostrate  body,  half-buried  in  the  snow, 
and  arose  with  her  clasped  to  my  bosom. 


TURKEYS  97 

Before  I  could  catch  her  by  the  legs  she,  with 
ill-directed  but  vigorous  clawings,  gouged  a  long 
strip  from  my  countenance,  leaving  an  unsightly 
scar  that  remained  for  several  weeks,  and  gave 
rise  to  the  rumor  that  my  home  life  was  unhappy. 

She  was  not  nearly  as  handsome  or  as  heavy 
as  her  mate,  but  that  she  was  dear  to  him  he 
demonstrated  by  furiously  attacking  me  when  I 
appeared  in  the  loft,  and  tearing  a  large  hole  in 
my  trousers,  in  return  for  which  I  kicked  him 
several  yards  with  some  considerable  deftness, 
and  left  him  to  smooth  his  ruffled  plumage  and 
temper,  while  I  sought  warm  water.  Pears'  soap, 
court-plaster,  and  a  clothes-brush. 

As  it  was  early  in  March,  when  cock-turkeys 
are  about  as  savage  as  four-year-old  Jersey  bulls, 
I  warned  the  different  members  of  our  family  to 
give  him  the  right  of  way. 

I  soon  found  that  he  was  at  heart  a  most  pusil- 
lanimous poltroon,  for  a  small  gamecock  that 
roosted  in  the  loft,  so  far  from  being  terrified 
by  his  appearance  and  loud  boasts,  thoroughly 
whipped  him,  and  drove  him  headlong  down  one 
of  the  grain  chutes,  whence  we  rescued  him  by 
tearing  away  the  planks,  empurpled  and  nearly 
dead  from  a  rush  of  blood  to  the  head. 

Although  an  arrant  coward,  he  put  up  such  a 
menacing  front,  boasted  so  loudly,  and  turned  so 
red-faced  in  his  anger  that  he  impressed  the 


98  FARMING     IT 

members  of  my  family,  the  neighbors,  and  the 
populace  generally,  as  a  very  dangerous  antago- 
nist. 

My  daughter,  like  her  father  extraordinarily 
gifted  in  the  way  of  legs,  had  no  difficulty  in 
distancing  the  old  fellow,  and  dodging  his  fierce 
rushes,  and  the  daily  sight  of  a  very  funny  young 
lady  with  spindly  legs  flying  across  the  yard  pur- 
sued by  a  red-faced,  gobbling  turkey,  added  much 
to  the  interest  with  which  the  neighborhood 
viewed  him. 

My  wife,  however,  had  no  patience  with  the 
young  lady  or  any  one  else  who  was  afraid  of 
an  old  turkey,  and  expressed  great  confidence 
that  the  day  old  Tom  came  at  her  would  be  a  very 
sad  day  for  the  poor  old  fellow.  This  naturally 
made  me  look  forward  to  the  inevitable  meeting 
between  the  mistress  of  the  house  and  the  master 
of  the  yard  as  a  prospective  treat. 

One  day  I  was  in  the  barn  and  saw  the  usual 
stern  chase  swinging  its  way  across  the  yard. 
Scarcely  had  the  house-door  slammed  before  it 
opened  again,  and  there  strode  forth,  with  firm 
step  and  resolute  manner,  the  lady  of  the  house 
with  the  light  of  high  purpose  and  the  glint 
of  warlike  determination  beaming  through  her 
specs.  The  old  cock  had  retired  some  distance 
from  the  house,  but  drew  up  as  the  apparition 
approached. 


TURKEYS  99 

As  the  meeting  promised  to  be  of  some  interest, 
I  peeped  through  a  window  and  prepared  to  get 
as  much  enjoyment  out  of  the  engagement  as  the 
nature  of  the  circumstances  would  allow. 

Straight  toward  old  Tom  came  the  lady  with 
rapid  and  measured  strides.  Instantly  he  hoisted 
his  tail,  injected  about  a  quart  of  scarlet  war- 
paint into  his  head  and  neck,  stuck  every  feather 
on  end,  and  let  out  a  fierce  rolling  gobble.  The 
walk  slowed  down  a  bit,  and  the  lady  cut  her  smile 
of  confidence  down  one  half,  but  still  advanced 
warily. 

The  gobbler  then  made  a  whining  imitation 
of  a  watchman's  rattle,  laid  the  feathers  of  his 
neck  flat  until  his  head  looked  snaky,  and  took 
a  few  side  steps  toward  his  visitor. 

"  Shoo,  you  nasty  thing !  Shoo ! !  scat ! ! !  go 
away!!!!"  screamed  the  lady,  stopping  abruptly. 

Old  Tom  whined  like  a  dog,  ending  with  a  sort 
of  bass  croak  that  seemed  to  come  from  the  pit 
of  his  stomach,  then  took  a  few  more  steps  for- 
ward on  tiptoe,  and  sounded  the  watchman's 
rattle,  winding  up  with  a  fierce  gobble. 

"Go  away,  you  nasty  thing!  Shoo!!  scat!!!" 
shrieked  the  lady.  "Oh,  why  don't  somebody 
come.^  Oh-ee ! !  Oh-ee ! !  Get  away ! !"  she  shrieked 
vigorously,  and  somewhat  improperly  shaking 
her  skirts,  with  marked  scenic  efiFect. 

This  was  the  chip  on  the  shoulder,  the  chal- 


100  FARMING     IT 

lenge  that  an  adult  male  turkey  always  takes 
up.  With  outstretched  neck  and  hideous  whine 
he  charged,  and  with  shrill  shrieks  the  lady  fled 
for  the  friendly  shelter  of  the  open  portal.  I  have 
ridden  on  the  "Flying  Yankee,"  I  have  flashed 
down  the  toboggan  slide,  have  shot  or  "  shooted" 
the  chutes,  have  twice  been  run  away  with  when 
astride  a  bronco,  have  seen  the  fastest  sprinter 
breast  the  tape  in  an  even  ten,  have  seen  the  two- 
minute  pacer  coming  down  the  stretch  abreast  the 
thoroughbred  runners,  but  never  have  I  seen 
such  a  burst  of  speed  as  my  wife  put  on  that  day. 
She  fairly  whizzed  across  the  yard  and  disap- 
peared into  the  house  like  a  flash  of  jagged 
lightning,  and  the  bang  with  which  she  slammed 
the  door,  echoed  and  reechoed  and  drowned  my 
coarse  and  unfeeling  laughter  and  the  delighted 
giggle  of  my  irreverent  daughter,  who  from  a 
convenient  window  had  viewed  the  proceedings 
with  great  enjoyment.  Truly  this  turkey  busi- 
ness was  not  a  bad  investment  after  all. 

As  spring  approached,  my  turkey  began  to  lay 
large  pock-marked  eggs  with  exceedingly  rough 
shells,  which  I  carefully  secured  and  concealed 
from  the  prying  eyes  of  the  cook. 

As  soon  as  I  had  a  sufficient  number,  I  set 
them  under  two  large  fluffy  hens  and  sternly  re- 
pressed the  maternal  instinct  of  the  turkey-hen, 
daily  removing  her  forcibly,  protestingly,  flap- 


TURKEYS  101 

pingly  from  her  nest  under  a  pile  of  brush,  where 
she  persistently  sat  on  a  couple  of  bricks.  In  due 
time  the  eggs  under  the  hens  hatched  and  the 
bricks  under  the  turkey  refused  to  hatch,  but  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  old  turkey-hen  continued  un- 
abated. She  seemed  determined  to  hatch  out  terra 
cotta  images,  drain- tile,  or  something. 

The  little  turks  or  poults  were  delightful  little 
wild  things,  beautifully  mottled,  and  on  them  I 
lavished  the  affection  of  a  warm  and  ardent  na- 
ture. On  one  of  them,  as  an  experiment,  I  lavished 
something  even  more  ardent,  for  under  the  ad- 
vice of  a  Granger  friend  I  introduced  a  pepper- 
corn into  the  epiglottis  of  an  infant  turk  and 
watched  the  effect.  It  was  instantaneous.  The 
poor  bird  piped  a  shrill  protest,  turned  flip-flaps, 
hand-springs,  and  cart-wheels,  opened  its  beak, 
clawed  at  it  with  frenzied  feet,  rolled,  ran,  fell, 
and  finally  collapsed  into  a  piteous  little  ball  of 
down  and  died. 

This  experiment,  at  least,  was  not  a  success, 
except  as  an  exterminator,  and  I  had  but  fifteen 
poults  instead  of  the  original  sixteen.  I  then  put 
them  in  a  well-sheltered  place  and  fed  them  ac- 
cording to  the  best  standards. 

For  a  while  all  went  well.  They  grew  and 
throve,  and  I  became  very  complacent  over  the 
matter.  Too  much  so,  I  am  afraid,  for  on  my 
return  from  the  oflSce  one  day  I  found  three  of 


102  FARMING     IT 

them  suffering  from  melancholia,  with  heads  sunk 
on  their  breasts,  and  apparently  indifferent  to 
their  surroundings.  I  at  once  powdered  them 
thoroughly  with  insect  powder,  under  which  dras- 
tic treatment  they  promptly  died  without  struggle 
or  squeak. 

A  week  later,  four  more  passed  peacefully  away 
without  apparent  reason,  and  a  week  later  cholera 
attacked  the  remainder.  One  by  one  they  passed 
to  the  great  hereafter.  We  found  them  in  all 
places,  in  all  positions.  Some  on  their  backs, 
with  their  feeble  little  claws  outstretched  in  air, 
some  huddled  into  corners,  with  heads  drawn 
back  over  their  shoulders,  some  curled  up  like 
balls  of  fur. 

In  vain  I  tried  all  the  remedies  in  the  poultry 
papers  and  in  books.  In  vain  I  consulted  wise 
sages  and  oracles  in  poultry-culture.  It  was  use- 
less ;  those  turks  were  doomed  from  the  moment 
of  their  entrance  into  a  sinful  world.  In  a  month 
from  their  arrival  nothing  remained  but  bitter 
memories  and  a  very  inconsiderable  addition  to 
my  compost-heap. 

In  the  meantime  the  old  cock,  having  much 
unoccupied  time  on  his  hands,  and  pining  for  the 
society  of  his  wife,  who  was  still  sitting  on  the 
bricks  under  the  brush-heap,  was  occupied  in 
chasing  defenseless  women  from  the  premises. 
Scarcely  a  day  passed  without  a  sally  and  a  rescue. 


TURKEYS  103 

In  his  blundering,  well-meaning  way  he  was 
doing  a  deal  of  good.  The  female  book  agent  and 
subscription  fairy  fled  from  my  premises  as  from 
a  place  accursed.  The  dark-complexioned  lady 
of  Armenian  extraction,  with  big  feet  and  still 
bigger  suit-case,  crowded  to  the  brim  with  gaudy 
and  useless  wares,  was  driven  from  the  premises 
instanter.  The  saturnine  villain  with  parti-col- 
ored rugs  had  to  fly  for  his  life.  The  small 
boys,  who  had  worn  a  path  through  my  lawn 
to  the  campus,  were  forced  to  pass  through  a 
neighbor's  garden,  and  the  D'Indy  Club,  the 
Frauenverein,  the  Mothers'  Club,  the  committee 
on  church  affairs,  met  elsewhere. 

Really,  I  was  quite  ready  to  repeat  my  experi- 
ment should  anything  happen  to  my  old  friend, 
and  stood  ready  to  advocate  the  cock-turkey  as 
the  watch-dog  of  the  household. 

One  day,  as  I  was  passing  the  brush-heap,  I 
bethought  myself  of  taking  a  look  at  the  turkey- 
hen.  So  I  pulled  her  hissing  from  her  nest,  and 
to  my  surprise  found  that  the  bricks  had  been 
pushed  from  the  nest,  and  in  their  place  were 
eight  eggs.  With  a  thrill  at  my  heart  that  re- 
minded me  of  my  boyish  days  of  birds'-egging, 
I  replaced  her  carefully  and  took  heart  again. 

Perhaps  I  had  made  a  mistake  after  all.  Per- 
haps the  books  were  wrong.  I  remembered  to 
have  heard  a  story  once  of  an  Irish  common 


104  FARMING     IT 

councilman,  who  in  a  somewhat  acrimonious  de- 
bate as  to  how  many  gondolas  should  be  bought 
for  the  pond  in  a  public  park,  sturdily  advocated 
the  purchase  of  a  male  gondola  and  a  female  gon- 
dola, "an' t'  lave  th'  rist  t'  nature,"  as  a  measure 
calculated  to  minimize  expense. 

Would  it  not  be  better  to  discontinue  the  arti- 
ficial methods  and  "lave  th'  rist  t'  nature"  ?  I 
would  try.  It  could  n't  be  any  worse.  I  could  n't 
lose  any  more  than  the  whole  brood.  Could  n't 
I  ?  Wait  a  bit. 

In  due  time  every  egg  hatched,  and  the  mother 
turkey  cautiously  crept  out,  suspicious  of  every 
sound,  watchful  of  every  movement.  That  night 
they  disappeared  in  a  grove  back  of  my  lot. 

The  next  morning  I  arose  betimes,  or  a  full  hour 
and  a  half  before  betimes,  and  stole  into  the  silent 
wood.  Joy !  at  the  foot  of  a  huge  pine  I  found  her 
and  her  tiny  babies,  safe,  sound,  and  dry,  although 
a  smart  shower  had  left  everything  dripping. 

It  was  a  success.  She  alone  had  the  secret  of 
nature.  Away  with  artificial  methods.  Return  to 
nature.  Strange  how  besotted  man  gets  in  his 
ignorance.  But  for  blind  adherence  to  experi- 
ment, the  New  Hampshire  turkey 

"Might  have  stood  against  the  world. 
Now  none  so  poor  to  do  him  reverence." 

Wait  a  bit:  that  night  at  dusk  I  stole  again 


TURKEYS  105 

into  the  forest,  and  to  the  foot  of  that  mighty 
pine.   She  was  not  there,  neither  were  her  chicks. 

The  mother  love,  suspicious,  primeval,  alert, 
had  prompted  her  to  find  a  new  hiding-place. 
I  would  pit  my  wits  against  hers.  Not  to  inter- 
fere with  nature,  but  to  keep  her  in  sight,  to  study 
her  cunning,  to  learn  her  secret. 

I  hunted  so  long  that  night  that  on  my  return 
in  the  darkness  I  bumped  into  trees  and  stubs, — 

"I  scratched  my  hands,  and  tore  my  hair, 
But  still  did  not  complain." 

The  next  morning  at  daybreak,  and  the  next 
night  at  dusk,  and  for  many,  many  weary  days  and 
nights,  I  searched,  and  peered,  and  sneaked,  and 
spied,  and  climbed  trees,  and  skinned  and  barked 
and  abraded  myself  in  various  tender  places. 

"  Donati  lived,  and  long  you  might  have  seen 
An  old  man  wandering  as  in  search  of  something. 
Something  he  could  not  find,  he  knevsr  not  what." 

In  vain  my  search.  I  never  saw  her  again,  nor 
did  I  ever  see  her  chicks,  and  to  this  day  their 
disappearance  is  a  mystery. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  the  old  cock  sympathized 
with  my  grief.  At  least  he  did  not  seem  the  same 
turkey,  and  he  began  to  follow  me  around.  It 
may  have  been  that  he  was  considering  the  ad- 
visability of  giving  me  a  poke  with  his  iron  beak. 
But  if  so,  he  never  did. 


106  FARMING     IT 

Time  passed.  The  haying  season  arrived, 
waxed,  and  waned.  Green  corn,  astrachan  apples, 
Sanford's  Jamaica  Ginger,  and  allopathic  phy- 
sicians battled  for  the  lives  of  our  dear  ones; 
Colorado  beetles  cut  my  potato-tops  to  the  ground, 
rose-bugs  in  flying  swarms  devastated  my  "  jacks." 
In  short,  from  morning  to  night  the  whole  house- 
hold was  engaged  in  a  hand-to-hand  struggle  to 
rescue  our  feeble  crops  from  their  many  enemies. 
Constant  occupation  is  good  for  grief  and  dis- 
appointment. 

In  due  time  my  cheerfulness  returned.  Old 
Tom  conceived  a  violent  passion  for  a  diminu- 
tive bantam  hen,  and  the  memory  of  his  erring 
or  unfortunate  mate  faded. 

September  came  with  its  early  crops,  but  I  had 
no  crops.  October  with  its  later  harvests,  but  I 
gathered  none.  November  merged  into  Decem- 
ber; December  into  January.  Old  Tom  began 
with  the  lengthening  days  to  develop  a  savage 
temper.  An  early  February  storm  had  made 
ponds  of  our  garden,  and  sharp  weather  had 
converted  it  into  a  fine  rink,  where  my  daughter 
spent  her  leisure  hours. 

Shortly  after  the  noon  hour  I  was  in  my  room, 
disrobed.  I  had  just  finished  caring  for  my  stable 
animals.  Suddenly  a  series  of  loud  screams  star- 
tled me.  I  rushed  to  the  window,  pulled  up  the 
shade,  and  looked.   Penned  into  a  comer  cowered 


A    FOOTRACE  107 

my  small  daughter,  while  before  her,  scarlet  of 
neck,  swollen  of  wattles,  with  every  feather  on 
end,  towered  old  Tom,  furious  and  menacing. 

From  the  side  porch  the  housemaid  screamed 
hysterical  advice,  and  jumped  up  and  down  in 
her  excitement. 

I  grabbed  my  trousers.  They  were  wrong-side- 
out,  and  I  got  stuck  in  them,  and  fell  to  the  floor. 
Gentle  reader,  did  you  ever  try  to  pull  on  your 
trousers  while  the  house  was  burning,  and  when 
the  salvation  of  yourself  or  your  loved  ones  de- 
pended upon  speed?  Try  it  some  time  and  see 
how  adroit  you  are.  I  threw  them  across  the 
room,  got  on  one  shoe,  and  was  groping  under 
the  bed  for  the  other,  when  another  cry  of  terror 
electrified  me,  and  I  dashed  for  the  stairs. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  are  n't  you  going  to  put  on 
some  clothes.?"  screamed  my  wife;  "the  girl  is 
out  there." 

" Damn  the  girl !"  I  snapped ;  " if  she  can  stand 
there  and  see  that  gobbler  scare  Nath.  to  death,  I 
guess  it  won't  hurt  her  to  see  me."  And  I  shot 
down  the  stairs  like  an  Andover  quarterback 
going  through  a  hole  in  the  Exeter  line. 

"The  uniform  'e  wore 
Was  nothin'  much  afore 
An*  rather  less  than  'alf  o'  that  be'ind.** 

I  grasped  a  broom  as  I  flew  through  the  kitchen. 


108  FARMING    IT 

turned  the  comer  of  the  shed  on  one  wheel,  and 
dashed  into  the  open  with  a  whoop.  At  the  un- 
expected appearance  of  so  skinny  a  spectre  clad 
in  pale  mauve  underwear,  stretched  to  its  ut- 
most tension  by  frantic  straddles,  the  housemaid 
shrieked  and  threw  her  apron  over  her  head,  but 
I  kept  on.  Arrived  in  time,  I  swung  with  all  my 
strength  on  the  gobbler's  scarlet  neck,  but  missed, 
and  turning  several  times  with  the  momentum, 
fell  and  rolled  on  the  ice. 

I  fairly  bounced  to  my  feet  and  dashed  after  the 
flying  bird.  Down  the  field  we  went,  round  the 
apple  trees,  the  gobbler  in  the  lead,  just  out  of 
reach.  Through  the  rose-bushes,  which  tore 
ravelings  from  my  underwear  and  cuticle  from 
my  straining  legs;  round  by  the  shed  the  chase 
continued,  over  the  wood-pile,  which  turned  and 
rolled  on  me,  giving  the  gobbler  a  fresh  start. 

But  I  picked  myself  up.  I  did  not  feel  my 
bruises.  Eliza  crossing  the  ice  was  not  more 
oblivious  of  her  cut  and  naked  feet.  I  was  going 
to  catch  that  gobbler  if  I  broke  something.  No 
red-headed  devil  bird  should  menace  the  life  of 
the  child  of  my  old  age ;  and  again  I  picked  up  my 
agile  heels  and  flew.  This  time  the  wily  old  bird 
took  me  over  a  hard-frozen  corn-field  with  stubs, 
but  failed  to  shake  me  off. 

Neighbors  threw  up  the  windows  and  stared. 
People  in  passing  teams  stopped  and  cheered  us 


DASHED   INTO  THE   OPEN 


A    FOOTRACE  109 

on.  The  bird  ran  with  drooping  wings.  He  was 
about  all  in.  So  was  I.  Suddenly  he  stopped  and 
squatted.  I  tried  to  stop,  but  could  not,  and  fell 
with  soul-shaking  violence. 

When  I  sat  up,  the  gobbler  had  crawled  into 
the  barn,  and  with  the  assistance  of  my  wife  and 
daughter,  who  draped  me  in  a  table-cloth,  I  re- 
turned to  my  room,  regained  my  breath  gradually, 
and  resumed  my  clothing. 

Does  any  one  wish  to  buy  an  adult  male  tur- 
key ?  Weighs  thirty  pounds ;  is  a  direct  descend- 
ant of  the  first  turkey  seen  by  the  Pilgrim  Fa- 
thers when  they  moored  their  bark  on  the  wild 
New  England  shore.  It  may  be  the  original 
turkey.  I  can't  say.  Turkeys  are  not  in  general 
valuable  on  account  of  their  antiquity,  but  a 
genuine  Stradivarius  turkey,  with  Sheraton  legs, 
Hepplewhite  upholstery,  and  Chippendale  var- 
nish, of  undoubted  antiquity  and  undisputed  an- 
cestry, ought  to  bring  a  good  price.  At  any  rate, 
the  turkey  industry  on  the  D.  F.  Ranch  is  hereby 
discontinued. 


CHAPTER  Xin 

A  NIGHT  CALL 

LL  day  long  the  June  sun  had  beaten 
down  with  fierce  July  heat  upon  the 
sleepy  town,  upon  the  smooth  green 
lawns,  the  white,  pink,  and  yellow 
roses  at  the  corners  of  houses,  upon  the  bright 
green  blades  of  growing  corn  in  the  gardens,  the 
feathery  foliage  of  the  carrots,  the  waxy  richness 
of  the  beets,  the  bright  and  smiling  faces  of  the 
pansies,  the  smooth  expanse  of  the  nasturtium, 
with  its  crimson  and  yellow  flashes  from  between 
the  green  leaves,  and  the  fragile  pinkness  of  the 
fragrant  sweet  peas. 

Under  the  revolving  sprinklers  of  the  lawns, 
dapper  robins  had  fluttered  with  wings  upturned 
to  catch  the  splashing  drops,  or  stood  upright  with 
close-furled  plumage.  In  the  short  white  clover, 
which  always  follows  a  sprinkle  of  wood  ashes, 
hundreds  of  bees  had  worked,  unmindful  of  the 
fierce  sun. 

As  darkness  slowly  steals  over  the  landscape, 
the  robins,  silent  during  the  furnace-heat  of  the 
day,  begin  the  clear  warble  of  their  evening  song. 


A    NIGHT    CALL  111 

In  the  grove  behind  the  house  the  wood  thrush 
chants  his  song  that  speaks  of  twilight  shades 
in  the  darkening  woods,  while  down  in  the  dim 
orchard  a  whip-poor-will  repeats  again  and  again 
his  odd  three-syllabled  cry,  and  from  far  above 
in  the  dim  blue  his  prototype,  the  night  hawk, 
drones  his  nasal  whine,  with  rapid  upbeat  of  his 
wings,  and  now  and  then  plunges  downward  like 
a  gray  bolt,  only  to  check  his  earthward  rush  with 
suddenly  outstretched  wings,  through  which  the 
wind  roars  like  distant  thunder. 

As  the  darkness  deepens,  the  fireflies  twinkle  fit- 
fully in  the  meadows,  bats  begin  their  erratic  flight, 
and  the  droning  buzz  of  the  beetle  is  heard.  The 
stars  appear,  but  there  is  no  moon,  and  the  glare 
of  electrics  mar  the  soft  darkness  of  the  night. 

The  white  figures  of  strolling  couples  pass  to 
and  fro,  and  the  faint  conversation  of  groups 
of  people  gathered  on  the  piazzas  and  enjoying 
the  delicious  coolness  of  the  evening,  blends  with 
the  voices  of  Nature  and  night.  One  by  one  the 
lights  in  the  houses  disappear,  the  hum  of  con- 
versation ceases,  and  the  little  town  sleeps. 

At  midnight  we  are  awakened  by  the  insistent 
ringing  of  the  telephone  bell. 

"Confound  the  telephone!  Why  can't  people 
let  it  rest  nights  ?  There,  I  guess  they  have  given 
it  up  now.  No,  there  it  goes  again,  1-5,  1-5,  1-5 ; 
some  one  is  in  trouble." 


112  FARMING    IT 

So  finally,  with  much  grumbling,  I  turn  out, 
and  stumble  downstairs  in  the  dark  to  the  re- 
ceiver. 

"Hello!  Hello!!  what  is  it?" 

"Yes?" 

"Is  it  so  important  as  that?" 

"I  will,  of  course." 

"  Let  me  repeat.  Take  the  north  road  straight 
through  to  the  village,  first  right,  four  corners, 
fourth  house  on  right,  big  bam,  about  eight  miles. 
All  right." 

"  Hello !  Yes,  can  do  it  in  about  an  hour.  Yes, 
will  bring  a  witness.  Is  there  one  at  the  house  ? 
All  right." 

Some  one  is  dying;  a  will  must  be  made  at 
once.  It  is  too  late  for  the  little  girl.  Dick  must 
go.  So  out  to  his  room  I  go,  dressing  hurriedly. 
Dick  grumbles ;  I  don't  blame  him,  for  he  came 
in  late;  but  he  becomes  better-natured  as  he 
shakes  the  sleep  from  his  eyes. 

Downstairs  we  hurry.  I  run  my  head  against 
the  edge  of  a  door,  curse  under  my  breath,  fall 
over  a  chair,  curse  again  right  out  loud,  finally 
find  and  light  a  lantern.  Polly  lurches  to  her  feet 
as  I  try  the  hasp  of  the  barn-door.  In  the  six  years 
I  have  had  her  I  have  never  seen  her  down. 

I  harness  her  hurriedly.  This  time  I  will  drive, 
not  ride ;  I  can  make  better  time,  and  my  errand 
is  urgent.   Dick  comes  out  with  a  hag  of  papers. 


A    NIGHT    CALL  113 

which  I  keep  ready  for  such  calls.  We  hastily 
don  light  overcoats,  for  the  night  air  is  cool  and 
damp,  and  with  a  lift  of  the  reins  we  whirl  round 
the  corner  and  plunge  into  the  blackness  of  the 
summer  night. 

Above  we  can  see  the  stars  and  the  faint  light 
of  the  Milky  Way.  On  either  side  the  opaque 
blackness  of  the  forest  trees  shuts  out  all  light. 
There  has  been  a  shower  in  the  early  night,  and 
the  earth  reeks  with  dampness  and  sweet  and 
pungent  smells. 

From  above  comes  the  faint  cheep  of  a  passing 
night-bird.  A  sudden  drone  as  a  night  beetle 
blindly  blunders  past  makes  one  dodge  instinc- 
tively. From  the  wet  trees  and  damp  places  the 
trills  of  the  tree-frogs  and  the  peculiarly  sleepy 
cry  of  the  toads,  a  soft  croak  with  a  falling  in- 
flection, remind  one  of  returning  in  a  boat  from 
an  evening  swim  on  a  hot  night  in  July. 

The  night  is  full  of  faint  and  drowsy  noises, 
vague  smells,  eerie  thoughts.  But  for  the  rapid 
clop,  clop,  clop  of  Polly's  feet,  the  whirring  of 
the  wheels  and  the  creak  of  the  whiffle-tree, 
which  needs  oil,  we  might  think  ourselves  in  elf- 
land.  We  can  almost  hear  "  the  horns  of  Elfland 
faintly  blowing."  But  Polly  is  practical  and 
knows  her  business.  She  is  troubled  with  no 
fancies.  Clop,  clop,  clop,  she  goes,  with  her  ears 
pointing  forward  in  the  darkness. 


114  FARMING    IT 

A  sudden  chilly  dampness  shows  we  are  ap- 
proaching the  river.  We  can  almost  see  the  mist 
as  it  settles  on  our  faces.  Then  we  have  thun- 
derously passed  the  bridge  and  ascended  a  rise, 
where  it  is  warmer  and  where  a  sudden  breeze 
showers  us  with  big  drops.  Then  down  a  rocky 
rattling  slope  we  go,  between  dense  pines.  We 
cannot  see  them,  but  the  sudden  blackness 
shows  they  are  there,  standing  shoulder  to  shoul- 
der, for  warmth  and  shelter  in  winter,  for  cool- 
ness and  shade  in  summer. 

And  now  we  are  approaching  the  village.  In  a 
house  a  light  shines  out  of  a  watcher's  room,  a 
sick-room  possibly,  but  in  the  darkness  it  seems 
cheerful  and  bright.  Let  us  hope  it  is  a  late  stu- 
dent, a  clergyman  writing  his  sermon  for  the  next 
Sunday,  a  reader  finishing  an  absorbing  story. 
So  bright  a  light  could  not  come  from  a  sick- 
room. Who  could  be  sick  on  a  June  night?  I 
forget,  for  we  are  going  to  a  sick-room.  I  pull 
Polly  up  for  a  breathing-space.  She  has  come 
five  miles  in  about  twenty-five  minutes. 

We  are  in  the  village  now  and  can  see  the 
faint  outlines  of  houses.  A  dog  rushes  out  bark- 
ing savagely,  one  of  those  unreasonably  fierce 
shaggy  animals  that  are  the  pest  of  drivers, 
and  especially  of  physicians  and  night  travelers. 
Polly  darts  ahead,  there  is  a  thump,  a  yelp,  then 
the  off  front  wheel  strikes  a  soft  something  and 


A    NIGHT    CALL  115 

the  wagon  heels  over  dangerously  amid  a  chorus 
of  ear-splitting  howls  and  pattering  feet,  as  the 
shaggy  devil  bolts  for  home.  We  grin  cheer- 
fully, for  the  dog  has  learned  a  lesson. 

We  pass  through  the  village  at  a  racing  gait, 
and  are  at  the  turn  in  the  road  where  we  pull  up 
to  get  our  bearings,  —  then  to  the  right  more 
slowly.  How  are  we  to  find  the  house  in  the  dark- 
ness? 

It  must  be  here,  for  a  lighted  lantern  hangs 
from  a  post.  We  drive  in,  and  a  man  in  overalls 
and  rubber  boots  takes  our  mare  without  a  word, 
and  motions  us  toward  the  door.  We  enter  the 
sitting-room.  In  the  corner  is  a  melodeon,  closed, 
and  covered  with  a  green  cloth.  On  the  melodeon 
is  an  old  violin  with  all  the  strings  broken  but 
the  G.  A  shaded  lamp  burns  on  the  centre-table. 
There  is  a  case  of  stuffed  birds  on  a  small  marble- 
topped  table  in  another  corner,  and  a  glass  frame 
of  wax  flowers  on  a  shelf.  On  the  walls  are  two 
black -framed  oval  portraits,  horrible  carica- 
tures of  deceased  persons,  the  lady  in  black  and 
white  checked  dress,  low  in  the  neck,  and  with 
a  large  locket  or  medallion  on  her  breast.  Her 
hair  is  parted  in  the  middle  and  brought  down 
over  her  ears  in  a  quaint  old  style  recently  re- 
vived. On  all  sides  her  ample  skirts  spread  in 
billows.  The  man  is  brave  in  stock  and  tight- 
sleeved,  narrow-shouldered  black  coat,  and  vo- 


116  FARMING    IT 

luminous  gray  trouserloons  and  beautifully  pol- 
ished boots. 

On  the  floor  is  a  bright  but  somewhat  faded 
carpet  and  braided  rugs.  A  cat  dozes  in  front  of 
the  open  fire-place,  neatly  swept  and  dusted, 
while  in  a  corner  an  old  eight-day  clock  ticks 
loudly.  I  sink  into  a  cambric-covered  deep  rocker 
and  wait. 

The  clock  ticks  with  dreary  monotony,  there 
is  the  sound  of  muffled  footsteps  overhead,  then 
a  door  opens,  and  a  portly,  waistless,  middle- 
aged  woman  beckons  me  upstairs. 

As  I  enter  a  dimly  lighted  room,  as  noiselessly 
as  possible,  I  see  stretched  on  a  bed,  and  covered 
with  a  patch -work  quilt,  an  old  gray -haired 
man,  with  a  strong  face  sunken  and  yellowed  by 
wasting  disease,  the  lower  jaw  more  prominent 
than  in  health,  and  the  gnarled,  twisted,  calloused 
hands  resting  on  the  white  sheet.  By  his  side 
sits  a  sweet-faced  old  lady,  with  tremulous  lips 
and  troubled  eyes,  patiently  awaiting  the  end. 
The  old  man  opens  his  eyes  and  half  raises  his 
hand  in  welcome.   I  am  in  time. 

Long  before  I  come  from  that  chamber  the 
first  streaks  of  light  appear  in  the  sky,  and  as  I 
reenter  the  sitting-room  it  is  nearly  dawn.  I  look 
at  the  violin,  the  G  string  has  snapped.  There 
is  a  confused  murmur  and  a  hurried  rush  of  feet 
overhead. 


A    NIGHT    CALL  117 

We  go  slowly  out  to  where  Polly  is  waiting  and 
drive  quietly  out  of  the  gateway.  Hear  the  birds ! 
Robins,  bobolinks,  catbirds,  orioles,  purple  mar- 
tins, —  a  rare  bird  now,  —  chewinks,  purple 
finches,  ground  sparrows,  vireos,  red-winged 
blackbirds,  bluebirds,  pewees,  summer  yellow- 
birds,  warblers,  chippys,  wrens,  oven-birds,  and 
every  other  bird  that  has  a  voice,  are  filling  the 
air  with  trills  and  warbles,  chirps  and  fluty  grace 
notes.  The  air  is  full  of  the  sweet  scent  of  locust 
blossoms  and  the  woody  smell  of  the  pines. 

Everything  speaks  of  life  and  love  and  happi- 
ness, but  back  in  a  darkened  room  the  G  string 
has  snapped,  and  a  life  has  gone  out  for  all  time. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

GREAT   EXPECTATIONS 

BOUT  the  Fourth  of  July  my  vegetable 
garden  was  in  the  most  flourishing 
condition  possible.  My  corn  was  thick 
and  straight  and  green,  my  beets  were 
bushy  and  the  leaves  purple  and  glossy.  For 
weeks  I  had  luxuriated  in  salad  from  my  lettuce- 
rows,  in  radishes,  exhumed  from  my  own  beds 
and  cut  into  fancy  shapes,  and  in  pie-plant,  which 
unfortunately  I  had  received  as  courtesies  from 
my  neighbors,  as  my  fatal  error  in  treating  my 
own  plants  as  burdocks  had  prevented  me  from 
enjoying  my  own  products. 

I  had  even  gone  to  the  extent  of  pulling  a  few 
potato-tops,  hoping  that  their  unusual  develop- 
ment might  have  produced  new  potatoes  of  avail- 
able size;  but  what  I  found  were  seemingly 
covered  with  warts  and  blisters,  which  rendered 
them  extremely  unattractive  in  appearance,  and 
slimy  and  disagreeable  to  the  touch. 

Shortly  after  the  Fourth  I  engaged  a  man  to 
mow  the  grass-crop.  He  appeared  with  an  as- 
sistant, and  after  viewing  the  astonishing  growth 
of  pigweed  and  other  worthless  vegetation,  they 


GREAT    EXPECTATIONS    119 

hung  up  their  scythes  and  returned  for  bush- 
hooks,  with  which  they  swung  and  hacked  all  day, 
and  then,  having  charged  on  a  bush-hooking 
basis,  which  is  one  half  larger  price  than  plain 
mowing,  they  departed,  after  assuring  me  that  the 
crop  was  of  absolutely  no  value,  which,  as  I  had 
been  so  informed  for  about  two  hundred  times, 
I  knew  perfectly. 

No  long  rains,  no  showers,  no  thunder-storms 
came  to  interfere  with  haymaking,  which  could 
scarcely  have  been  the  case  had  the  crop  been 
of  value.  But  after  I  had  collected  the  entire 
crop  in  one  enormous  pile  it  made  a  gorgeous 
bonfire,  but  left  a  black  smooch  on  the  green  sur- 
face of  my  field  that  did  not  entirely  disappear 
during  the  rest  of  the  season. 

My  strawberry-plants  had  grown  surprisingly, 
but  they  demanded  more  of  my  time  than  almost 
all  the  other  crops  together.  For  although  they 
grew  very  fast,  they  appeared  to  be  on  terms  of  in- 
timacy with  almost  every  sort  of  base  weed,  whose 
company  they  appeared  to  court,  and  who  in 
turn  were  fondly  embraced  by  the  tendrils  of 
their  aristocratic  acquaintances. 

Again,  these  strawberry-plants  had  the  most 
astonishing  fertility  in  sending  out  trailers  or 
creepers  or  shoots,  which,  if  not  pruned,  would 
in  a  very  short  time  have  converted  the  entire 
farm  into  an  enormous  bed  of  strawberry  vines. 


120  FARMING    IT 

I  had  six  rows  of  these  plants,  and  it  was  my 
custom  every  morning,  just  after  finishing  groom- 
ing Polly  and  Lady  M.  and  Jack,  to  go  down  on 
my  knees,  and  with  a  pair  of  shears  prune  one 
row  of  trailers  before  breakfast.  Thus  the  begin- 
ning of  the  next  week  would  find  me  at  the  start- 
ing-point, with  just  as  many,  if  not  more,  trailers 
to  cut  and  weeds  to  disentangle  and  pull  up  than 
ever  before.  However,  I  persevered  with  the  hope 
of  bountiful  berries  the  second  year. 

A  few  days  after  the  Fourth  we  had  a  terrific 
storm  of  wind  and  rain  which  lasted  all  one 
night.  The  next  morning,  when  the  sun  rose,  I 
was  early  on  hand  to  see  the  results  of  the  storm 
on  the  garden.  Although  partially  protected  by 
a  high  board-fence,  my  corn  was  badly  damaged 
and  a  good  deal  of  it  prostrate.  My  other  vege- 
tables had  suffered  less. 

I  retired  to  the  barn  and  communed  bitterly 
with  myself.  "Ingenui,  et  duplicis  tendens  ad 
sidera  palmas  talia  voce  retuli:  'O  terque  quater- 
que  beati  quis  ante  ora  patrum  Troise  sub  moeni- 
bus  altis  contigit  oppetere !'"  Was  it  for  this  that 
I  had  worked,  and  slaved,  and  dug,  and  hoed, 
and  pruned,  and  scratched,  and  raised  blood- 
blisters  on  my  hands  ?  Was  it  for  this  that  I  had 
spent  evening  after  evening  with  lantern,  wheel- 
barrow, tub,  pail  and  dipper,  faithfully  coaching 
the  struggling  plants  through  a  dry  spell  ?   Was 


GREAT    EXPECTATIONS     121 

it  for  this  that  I  had  borne  with  calm  disdain 
paternal  scoff,  uxorial  jeer,  and  neighborly  gibe  ? 

Then  I  went  back  and  made  an  examination. 
None,  or  at  least  very  few,  of  them  were  broken. 
I  tried  the  experiment  of  straightening  one  plant 
and  heaping  earth  round  it  to  keep  it  straight. 
It  was  perfectly  feasible.  For  an  hour  before  tea, 
and  after  tea  until  late  at  night,  with  lantern  I 
worked  until  every  bent  stalk  was  straightened.  It 
was  fully  a  week  after  that  when  Daniel,  the  om- 
niscient, informed  me  that  the  stalks  would  have 
straightened  out  themselves. 

A  day  or  two  after,  my  friend  Daniel  called 
to  see  Lady  M.  and  to  determine  whether  or  not 
it  would  be  advisable  to  grant  that  blue-blooded 
animal  a  long  holiday  in  view  of  the  great  event 
in  her  life,  and,  I  also  felt,  in  my  fortune  and 
reputation  as  a  stock-farmer. 

By  his  advice  Lady  M.  was  given  a  vacation 
in  the  paddock,  quite  a  pretentious  name  for  an 
open  shed  with  a  fifty-foot  run.  It  seemed  as 
soon  as  she  was  turned  into  the  lot  that  my  ex- 
pectations were  almost  realized.  I  am  a  little 
given  to  building  air-castles,  and  I  must  confess 
that  I  looked  forward  to  the  possibility  of  breed- 
ing the  two-minute  trotter.  I  realized  the  ex- 
treme improbability  of  anything  of  the  kind  ever 
happening  to  me,  and  yet  it  was  a  possibility. 
Lady  M.  showed  good  breeding.     There  were 


122  FARMING    IT 

strong  evidences  of  the  Morgan  in  her  conforma- 
tion, her  courage,  and  her  quiet,  gentle  ways. 
And  when  bred  to  Electric  Jim  (2.16|),  first 
dam  Sukey  M.  (2.21),  second  dam  Wilkes  Jane 
(2.12^),  what  record  would  daunt  her  foal. 

It  might  be — well,  I  had  known  men  to  get 
into  the  judges'  stand  for  less  reasons  than  that. 
I  even  might  sit  in  the  sulky  and  have  a  card 
with  a  number  on  it  fastened  to  my  sleeve. 
"  Gentleman  driver"  was  by  no  means  a  title  with- 
out honor.  Perhaps  the  many  trials  and  losses  I 
had  suffered  in  my  farm  and  garden  investments 
might  in  a  way  be  a  sort  of  preparation  designed 
to  make  me  appreciate  all  the  more  my  success 
as  a  horse-breeder,  just  as  a  man  sometimes  eats 
heartily  of  salt  fish  before  attending  a  banquet 
at  which  wine  is  to  flow  freely. 

At  all  events,  should  her  get  not  be  a  racer, 
the  ownership  of  a  finely  bred,  game  roadster, 
with  all  that  goes  to  make  up  a  gentleman's 
driving  outfit,  would  certainly  afford  me  great 
pleasure,  as  would  the  casual  mention  of  Elec- 
tric Jim  (2.16|),  first  dam  Sukey  M.  (2.21), 
second  dam  Wilkes  Jane  (2.12J). 

True,  I  had  never  heard  of  these  famous  horses 
except  in  the  advertisement  referred  to,  but  their 
records  were  unquestionably  genuine,  and  some 
day  when  I  had  time  enough  I  would  look  them 
up,  and   paste  their  records  in  my  stud-book, 


GREAT    EXPECTATIONS    123 

which  I  anticipated  buying  as  soon  as  the  foal 
arrived. 

Every  day  was  one  of  expectation.  In  the 
morning  I  was  first  at  the  paddock.  At  noon  I 
hurried  there  from  the  oflSce,  and  visited  there 
the  last  thing  at  night.  I  arranged  for  my  family 
to  notify  me  by  telephone.  My  friends  and  neigh- 
bors were  nearly  as  much  interested  as  I  was, 
and  waited  in  more  or  less  anxiety  for  the  event. 

For  several  weeks  this  went  on.  I  do  not 
know  how  I  could  have  stood  the  strain  had  it 
not  been  for  the  fact  that  I  was  kept  busy  both 
by  office  and  farm  work.  The  corn  silked  and 
became  a  daily  course  on  our  table,  and  on  those 
of  our  relatives  and  neighbors. 

My  beans  likewise  helped  maintain  my  repu- 
tation as  a  bon  vivant,  while  some  of  my  other 
crops  were  maturing  in  fine  shape.  It  was,  how- 
ever, at  the  cost  of  constant  labor  to  keep  down 
weeds.  Indeed,  I  do  not  believe  I  could  have 
succeeded  had  it  not  been  for  the  occasional  as- 
sistance of  Mike,  who  would  accomplish  in  a  day 
more  than  I  would  in  a  week. 

I  forgot  to  say  that  during  the  month  of  June 
I  had,  literally,  bushels  of  roses,  which  I  distrib- 
uted by  the  pailful  among  our  friends,  the  success- 
ful cultivation  of  which  (both  friends  and  roses) 
kept  my  wife  engaged  in  a  desperate  hand-to- 
hand  encounter  with  all   manner  of  creeping. 


124  FARMING    IT 

crawling,  climbing,  and  flying  things.  This  was 
not  a  bad  thing  for  me,  for  it  took  up  so  much  of 
her  waking  hours  as  to  leave  me  practically  free 
from  interference  or  even  criticism  in  my  employ- 
ment of  my  time. 

About  the  middle  of  August  I  was  called  away 
from  home  to  attend  a  hearing  in  a  farming  town 
about  twenty-five  miles  distant,  which  could  not 
be  reached  by  rail.  Consequently,  I  had  to  drive 
Polly,  and  as  the  hearing  lasted  three  days,  I 
was  unable  to  return  home  at  night. 

There  were  several  lawyers  connected  with 
the  case,  and  a  large  number  of  witnesses,  several 
of  whom  stayed  at  the  hotel  where  I  was  staying. 
In  the  evenings  we  would  sit  out  on  the  hotel 
piazza  and  chat  with  one  another  and  such  of  the 
farmers  as  might  drop  in. 

In  this  way  I  got  much  valuable  information 
in  relation  to  farm  matters,  which  would  have 
saved  me  much  trouble  and  considerable  loss  if 
I  had  known  it  before.  Everybody  was  interested 
in  my  brood-mare  and  the  expected  colt,  and  I 
talked  horse  for  hours. 

While  I  was  sitting  thus  the  second  evening, 
I  was  called  to  the  telephone,  and  responded  with 
alacrity,  for  I  felt  that  news  of  the  colt's  arrival 
had  come.  Sure  enough,  I  recognized  my  daugh- 
ter's voice. 

"Hullo,  papa." 


GREAT    EXPECTATIONS    125 

"Hullo,  little  girl." 

*'  Oh,  papa,  what  do  you  guess  ?  Lady  M.  has 
got  a  colt.  This  afternoon  I  went  out,  and  there 
was  a  colt  in  the  pen.    Ain't  you  s'prised.?" 

"Well,  well,  I'm  glad  of  it,  I  should  say  I  was 
surprised." 

"Grandpa  and  Mr.  Gilman's  man  are  taking 
care  of  it.  Oh,  it  has  got  the  longest  legs !" 

"What  does  Daniel  say  about  it.^" 

"Oh,  he  said  it  was  the  most  perfect  one  he 
ever  saw.  He  told  me  to  tell  you  it  was  the  most 
perfect  specimen  he  ever  saw." 

"Are  you  all  well.?" 

"Yes,  and  we  want  you  to  come  home  just 
as  soon  as  you  can.  Oh,  papa,  I  went  right  up 
and  patted  it." 

"Well,  good-by." 

"Good-by." 

Every  one  about  the  hotel  congratulated  me, 
and  the  next  day,  after  finishing  the  case,  to  which 
I'm  afraid  I  could  not  give  my  undivided  atten- 
tion, I  started  for  home  directly  after  lunch, 
having  notified  my  family  that  I  would  be  at 
home  at  about  four  o'clock. 

My  arrival  had  evidently  been  not  entirely 
unexpected  by  persons  not  connected  with  my 
family,  for  when  I  drove  into  the  yard  I  found 
quite  a  crowd  awaiting  me  and  smiling  delightedly 
at  my  return.    There  was  my  venerable  father. 


126  FARMING    IT 

Daniel,  and  his  wife,  the  Professor  and  his  wife, 
my  own  family,  and  several  other  neighbors,  to 
greet  me  and  shower  congratulations  upon  me. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  a  colt  of  unblemished 
ancestry  had  been  foaled  in  that  neighborhood, 
and  it  was  delightful  to  witness  the  genuine 
appreciation  of  our  friends.  I  really  felt  as  if 
I  were  the  chosen  instrument  to  lead  them  to 
material  improvement  in  the  most  important 
branch  of  farm-life. 

And  so,  escorted  by  my  friends,  I  walked  tri- 
umphantly toward  the  paddock,  trying  hard  not 
to  show  too  openly  the  pride  and  elation  I  felt, 
and  listening  to  the  heartfelt  encomiums  of  my 
friends. 

"  Well,"  said  our  friend  Daniel  enthusiastically, 
"  I  have  bred  horses  all  my  life,  and  I  am  bound 
to  say  it  is  one  of  the  most  perfect  types  I  have 
yet  seen.  And  when  a  colt  shows  its  character- 
istics so  young,  you  may  be  sure  that  they  are 
going  to  stay  with  it  during  life." 

I  beamed  with  pride. 

"Was  there  ever  a  truer  saying  than  *  blood 
will  tell,'  Daniel  ?"  asked  my  venerable  father. 

"Never,  George,"  replied  Daniel.  "  See  how 
strongly  the  remarkable  qualities  of  his  sire  ap- 
pear in  the  colt.  Why  Lady  M.,  good  animal 
that  she  is,  is  not  in  the  same  class  with  the  colt." 

I  beamed  some  more. 


GREAT    EXPECTATIONS    127 

"Don't  you  think,"  queried  the  Professor, 
"that  the  colt  may  have  inherited  some  of  its 
remarkable  qualities  from  the  first  dam  of  Elec- 
tric Jim,  Sukey  M.  (2.21)  ?" 

"Or  from  the  second  dam,  Wilkes  Jane 
(2.12^)?"  suggested  another  neighbor.  "We 
all  know  that  the  Wilkes  blood  is  highly  thought 
of  among  horse-breeders." 

As  he  said  this  I  came  to  the  paddock,  and  my 
friends  drew  apart  from  me  in  order  to  let  me 
feast  my  eyes  on  the  colt. 

I  looked  and  looked  again,  and  leaned  my 
hands  on  the  fence  and  stared  foolishly.  For  a 
moment  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  eyes,  for 
there  stood  Lady  M.,  her  great  soft  eyes  full  of 
love,  nuzzling,  by  all  the  gods,  a  long-legged, 
round-barreled,  big-headed  mule  colt,  with  the 
most  grotesquely  enormous  ears  I  had  ever  seen. 
Shades  of  Balaam  and  Don  Quixote!  it  looked 
like  a  jack-rabbit  on  stilts. 

I  swallowed  hastily,  looked  for  a  place  to  sit 
down,  grinned  foolishly,  and  turned  to  see  my 
friends  in  various  conditions  of  convulsions. 
Daniel  was  shaking  like  a  huge  tumbler  of  jelly ; 
the  Professor  was  leaning  over  the  fence,  holding 
himself  with  both  hands;  my  daughter  was 
dancing  a  grotesque  jig;  my  son  was  rolling  on 
the  ground ;  while  the  rest  of  the  assemblage  were 
bending  and  twisting  and  cackling  like  lunatics. 


128  FARMING    IT 

Well,  I  have  faced  financial  crises  with  coolness, 
ridiculous  situations  with  dignity,  and  reverses 
with  resignation,  but  I  never  was  so  completely 
"graveled"  in  my  life. 

I  do  not  know  what  the  result  would  have  been, 
—  whether  I  should  have  brained  the  shrieking 
maniacs,  or  the  mule  and  its  fool  dam,  or  fled 
from  the  place,  —  but  just  then  the  sight  of  that 
mare  nursing  that  infernal  jack -rabbit  struck 
my  sense  of  the  ridiculous,  and  I  became  the 
loudest  and  most  abandoned  of  the  shrieking 
crew. 

When  I  had  in  a  measure  recovered,  I  invited 
all  hands  to  the  house,  and  set  out  whatever  I 
could  find  as  our  first  libation  to  the  god  of  treats. 

What  that  mule  cost  me  since  I  scarcely  dare 
estimate. 


IT  LOOKED  LIKE  A  JACK-RABBIT^  OW  STILTS 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE   TALES   OF   GRAMP 

ANIEL  and  Gramp,  my  two  nearest 
neighbors,  were  as  chummy  as  two 
old  friends  could  be.  Gramp  was  a 
good  many  years  older  than  Daniel, 
and  always  claimed  that  Daniel  should  have 
more  respect  for  his  age  than  he  had  shown. 
Daniel  would  retort  that  father's  age  was  the 
only  thing  about  him  that  he  did  respect.  Each 
one  accused  the  other  of  cheating  him  in  horse, 
cow,  harness,  or  wagon  trades. 

As  Daniel  knew  more  about  cows  and  horses 
than  father,  he  generally  had  an  advantage  over 
the  old  gentleman  in  a  trade  in  these  staple  prod- 
ucts; but  when  it  came  to  harnesses  and  car- 
riages, especially  when  real  antiquity  entered 
into  the  matter,  Gramp  had  the  grape-vine  twist 
on  Daniel.  In  his  early  days,  before  he  forsook 
the  brad-awl  and  the  waxed  thread  for  the  lucra- 
tive sinecure  of  a  custom-house  clerkship,  Gramp 
was  a  harness -maker  and  a  carriage  -  trimmer. 
Consequently  he  knew  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  busi- 
ness, and  Daniel  had  to   manoeuvre  very   cau- 


ISO  FARMING    IT 

tiously  when  he  and  Gramp  were  engaged  in  a 
transaction  involving  these  articles. 

On  the  other  hand,  Daniel  was  a  farmer,  a 
gentleman  farmer  who  sold  the  products  of  his 
farm,  displaying  much  ingenuity  in  obtaining, 
as  Gramp  said,  the  highest  market  prices  for  the 
lowest  grade  of  goods.  On  one  occasion  Daniel 
sold  Gramp  some  baled  hay,  about  three  fourths 
of  which,  when  shaken  out  with  the  fork,  refused 
to  come  down,  and  floated  round  in  the  air  in  the 
form  of  hayseed,  chaff,  and  dust,  leaving  of  each 
bale  about  three  pecks  of  tangible  fodder. 

To  avenge  this  high-handed  outrage  Gramp 
traded  "as  nice  a  pair  of  pigs  as  you  ever  saw, 
Daniel,"  with  that  rotund  gentleman,  for  a  kick- 
ing gray  mare  with  a  milk-leg  and  the  scratches ; 
and  when  Daniel  came  for  the  pigs  he  found  to 
his  horror  they  were  guinea-pigs,  and  worth 
twenty-five  cents  a  pair,  rather  more,  in  fact, 
than  what  the  mare  was  worth,  for  she  kicked  out 
the  entire  side  of  the  barn,  and  cost  Gramp  about 
twenty  dollars  in  repairs. 

But  Daniel  and  Gramp  were  great  story-tellers, 
each  being  gifted  with  a  vivid  imagination  and 
a  most  whimsical  manner  of  expressing  himself. 
Daniel,  although  a  farmer,  was  a  confirmed 
skeptic  in  such  matters,  and  was  in  tastes  and 
feeling  a  sport.  He  read  the  "Sporting  Life" 
religiously,    knew    every   professional    baseball 


TALES    OF    GRAMP  131 

player  by  name,  and  every  college  and  inter- 
scholastic  football  player  by  heart. 

Gramp,  on  the  other  hand,  while  not  knowing 
the  difference,  except  in  taste,  between  burdock 
and  pie-plant,  or  between  smart- weed  and  spinach, 
was  an  enthusiast  in  farming.  He  scoffed  loudly 
at  modern  sports,  and  told  most  astonishing 
tales  about  his  proficiency  in  all  sports  when  a 
young  man. 

They  used  to  sit  under  a  large  elm  tree  in  front 
of  my  house,  and  smoke  and  tell  stories,  and 
they  usually  had  a  crowd  of  eager  listeners. 
Perhaps  the  following  narrative  may  best  express 
their  style  of  oratory  and  the  strength  of  their 
imagination. 

It  was  one  day  in  the  fall  when  Dick  with  half 
a  dozen  student  friends  had  come  in  great  glee 
from  witnessing  a  game  at  the  Academy  Campus, 
and  as  usual  Gramp  had  a  story  ready. 

"Gee!  Gramp,"  said  Dick,  "you  ought  to 
see  one  of  these  games.  Our  backs  just  ripped 
holes  through  their  line  that  you  could  have 
driven  an  ox-team  through.  We  beat  'em  seven- 
teen to  nothing.  One  collar-bone  broken  and 
two  ankles  wrenched.  That's  playing,  I  tell  you, 
Gramp." 

"  Hm ! "  said  Gramp,  removing  his  pipe  and 
crossing  his  legs,  "I  guess  you  never  saw  a  real 
game  of  football,  Dick.     Say,  Daniel,  did  you 


132  FARMING    IT 

ever  hear  of  the  big  game  in  '42  when  I  played 
right  guard  against  Andover?" 

"I  never  heard  the  details  of  it  fully,"  said 
Daniel,  "but  I  heard  it  was  a  great  game,  and 
that  there  were  a  good  many  serious  accidents 
and  pretty  rough  playing.  Several  men  were 
killed,  were  they  not,  George  ?"  queried  Daniel. 

"Not  in  that  game,"  replied  Gramp ;  "that 
was  in  '39  when  Williams,  Andover's  left  tackle, 
was  killed,  and  Lovejoy,  Exeter's  right  guard, 
made  a  touchdown  before  Williams's  body  had 
been  carried  off  the  field.  This  caused  a  protest 
by  Andover,  and  as  the  referee  overruled  it, 
Andover  broke  into  the  field  to  rough-house  the 
referee,  and  of  course  Exeter  had  to  stand  up 
for  him. 

"There  was  a  bad  time  before  the  fight  was 
stopped,  and  a  good  many  were  killed  and 
wounded  on  both  sides.  I  was  there  after  the 
thing  was  over  and  saw  the  dead  laid  out  in  rows. 
That  was  bad  enough,  but  not  nearly  as  bad  as 
hearing  the  wounded  cry  for  water  and  beg  the 
by-standers  to  put  them  out  of  their  misery." 

Gramp  paused,  sighed,  and  smoked  reminis- 
cently  for  a  few  moments,  while  the  boys  stared 
with  astonishment  and  half  smiles  of  incredulity, 
which  changed  to  very  serious  looks  as  they  saw 
Gramp's  look  of  profound  seriousness  and  Daniel's 
sober  phiz. 


TALES    OF    GRAMP  13S 

"Go  on,  Gramp,"  said  Dick  at  last,  as  Gramp 
sat  staring  into  vacancy,  his  mind  evidently  intent 
on  visions  of  the  past ;  "  tell  us  about  the  game 
of  '42,  when  you  played." 

"Oh  yes,  Dick,  where  w^as  I?"  said  Gramp. 
"I  know  now,  it  was  about  the  game  of  '39. 
Well,  naturally  this  created  a  good  deal  of  feeling 
between  the  schools,  and  the  games  were  stopped 
for  a  year  or  so.  Then  the  doctors  of  the  town, 
aided  by  the  druggists,  the  dealers  in  artificial 
limbs,  glass  eyes,  and  false  teeth,  the  dentists, 
and  the  undertakers,  all  signed  a  petition  to  the 
faculty  of  both  schools  to  allow  the  game  to  be 
played  as  usual,  stipulating  that  they  would  use 
their  influence  with  the  students  to  have  a  more 
open  game  played. 

"The  undertakers  rather  objected  to  this,  as 
they  got  their  profit  out  of  the  fatalities,  but 
finally  it  was  brought  about  that  the  game  of  '42 
was  played  on  the  campus  in  front  of  the  Exeter 
school. 

"Well,  as  I  was  saying,  Dickie,"  continued 
Gramp,  "that  game  with  Andover  beat  every- 
thing so  far.  People  came  from  all  over  the  coun- 
try. They  crowded  the  windows  and  housetops. 
Andover  had  her  strongest  eleven  on  the  field. 
There  were  some  very  peculiar  looking  men  in 
the  Andover  line,  who  attracted  much  attention 
by  their  enormous  muscular  development.    We 


134  FARMING    IT 

did  not  know  until  some  time  after  the  game  that 
Andover  had  hired  Yankee  Sullivan,  John  C. 
Heenan,  and  Awful  Gardner,  famous  prize- 
fighters, and  had  given  them  easy  courses  in 
theology  to  keep  them  in  school.  They  had  tried 
to  work  in  Molyneux,  the  nigger  who  went  to 
England  to  fight  Jackson,  and  they  put  pipe- 
clay on  him ;  but  it  cracked  and  fell  off  the  first 
five  minutes  of  play,  and  the  Southerners  of  both 
sides  drew  the  color-line. 

"We  had  some  outside  assistance,  too,  for  we 
did  n't  intend  to  be  behind  in  good  works.  So 
we  had  introduced  to  the  membership  of  the 
Junior  Class  the  three  strongest  men  in  town,  all 
blacksmiths,  —  Jim  Ellison,  Charles  Lane,  and 
Adoniram  J.  Towle.  True  enough,  they  had  n't 
been  in  the  Academy  long  enough  to  get  much 
of  a  mastery  of  Latin  or  Greek,  and  intended 
to  return  to  their  anvils  as  soon  as  the  game  was 
over. 

"I  was  playing  right  guard  against  Yankee 
Sullivan,  and  in  the  first  line-up  I  got  one  in  the 
jaw  that  nearly  floored  me.  I  knew  then  what 
was  up,  and  the  next  time  the  ball  was  put  in  play 
I  dodged  his  left  and  put  in  a  counter  of  my  own, 
and  there  was  a  hole  in  the  Andover  line  through 
which  our  right  half-back  made  a  run  of  forty- 
five  yards  to  a  touchdown  right  between  the 
posts.   After  the  goal  was  kicked  and  we  went 


TALES    OF    GRAMP  135 

back  to  pick  up  Yankee  Sullivan,  we  found  that 
the  subs  had  picked  him  up  and  put  him  in  the 
ambulance." 

"Was  he  killed,  Gramp?"  asked  Dick. 

"No,  not  quite.  I  understand  he  partly  re- 
covered, but  never  was  any  good  in  the  ring  again, 
and  was  lynched  in  California  some  years  after. 

"  In  the  next  ten  minutes'  play,  Andover  made 
a  touchdown  through  Jim  Ellison,  our  centre, 
who  could  n't  stand  up  to  Heenan.  Jim  was 
strong  and  gritty,  but  could  n't  box.  So  after  a 
conference  between  the  coach  and  captain,  I  was 
put  in  as  centre.  I  saw  Heenan's  face  fall  when  he 
found  me  opposite  him,  and  I  knew  I  had  him 
licked.  He  was  a  tough  customer,  and  in  the  next 
rush  bored  in  on  my  slats  as  I  swung  on  his  jaw ; 
we  then  clinched,  and  I  back-heeled  him,  and  our 
left  half  -  back  made  twenty  yards  through  the 
hole  before  he  was  downed. 

"The  next  rush  Heenan  rather  bested  me,  I 
must  confess,  as  he  butted  me  in  the  stomach, 
and  Awful  Gardner,  having  thrown  Charles  Lane, 
secured  the  ball  and  came  through  centre  for  a 
run  of  one  hundred  and  eighty- seven  yards." 

"Gee!  Gramp,"  interrupted  Dick,  "how far 
was  it  between  goals?" 

"Two  hundred  yards,"  replied  Gramp.  "You 
see,  we  had  got  within  ten  feet  of  their  goal-line, 
and  when  Awful  was  downed  he  was  on  our  three- 


136  FARMING     IT 

yard  line.  The  question  then  was  whether  we 
would  hold  them  for  downs.  Well,  on  the  next 
line-up  Heenan  tried  a  tremendous  upper  cut, 
which  I  dodged,  and  the  force  of  his  blow  turned 
him  a  complete  back  summerset,  and  while  he 
was  in  the  air  I  dove  underneath  him,  got  the 
ball  from  their  quarter-back  before  he  could  pass 
it  to  the  backs,  and  when  the  crowd  overtook  me 
I  was  lying  between  the  Andover  goal-posts  with 
the  ball  safely  over  the  line. 

"^Vhen  the  goal  was  kicked  and  the  sides 
separated,  Heenan  was  found  still  turning  sum- 
mersets like  an  animated  pin-wheel,  not  having 
been  able  to  stop,  and  time  was  called  until  he 
could  be  stopped  and  recover  from  his  giddiness. 

*'  This,  of  course,  caused  a  good  deal  of  cheer- 
ing for  me,  and  gave  us  a  decided  lead  over  An- 
dover. So  far  nobody  had  been  killed,  and  only 
a  few  crippled  for  life,  and  the  first  half  closed 
with  Exeter  leading  Andover  by  the  score  of  twelve 
to  nothing. 

"In  the  fifteen  minutes'  rest  between  halves, 
the  Mayor  and  Common  Council  waited  on  me 
in  Dr.  Soule's  parlor,  and  informed  me  that  the 
Board  of  Trade  and  the  Faculty  and  the  Deacon 
of  the  United  Churches  were  going  to  give  me 
a  banquet  at  the  Squamscott  after  the  game, 
provided  we  won  and  prevented  Andover  from 
scoring. 


TALES     OF     GRAMP  137 

"You  can  imagine  this  made  me  feel  good, 
and  I  determined  to  do  my  utmost  to  win  by  a 
big  score.  But  when  we  lined  up  for  the  second 
half,  I  found  that  Lane  had  given  place  to  a  new 
man,  and  that  Towle,  although  still  playing  at  left 
guard,  was  about  all  in.  This  really  put  me  op- 
posite two  men.  Awful  Gardner  and  Heenan, 
a  pretty  bad  place  for  a  young  fellow  of  nineteen 
against  two  of  the  best  heavy-weight  prize- 
fighters the  world  had  ever  seen. 

"To  add  to  this,  all  the  plays  were  directed 
through  me.  So  you  see,  Dickie,  I  was  in  for  a 
warm  afternoon.  And  a  warm  one  it  was  for  a 
fact.  Every  time  the  ball  was  put  in  play.  Awful 
would  fell  Towle  to  the  earth,  and  then  he  and 
Heenan  would  swing  for  my  jaw  and  lead  for  my 
wind  with  heavy  rights  and  lefts,  while  I  could 
only  get  in  one  blow  to  their  two.  I  noticed,  how- 
ever, that  I  kept  them  from  getting  through,  and 
after  a  half  dozen  line-ups  I  found  they  were 
weakening. 

'I  then  put  in  play  a  dodge  that  Andover 
could  n't  block  and  had  no  way  of  meeting.  I 
whispered  to  the  quarter  to  keep  back  far  enough 
to  give  me  a  free  swing  and  be  ready  with  the 
ball.  Then,  when  play  was  called,  I  waited  until 
Heenan  or  Awful  made  the  first  rush  for  me, 
then  seized  the  first  one,  dashed  him  against  the 
other,  rushed  back,  grabbed  the  ball  and  started 


138  FARMING     IT 

through  the  hole  I  had  made,  generally  making 
from  thirty  to  forty  yards. 

"Neither  Heenan  nor  Awful  could  stop  that 
play,  and  before  the  game  was  called  I  had  made 
sixteen  unaided  touchdowns,  from  which  twelve 
goals  were  kicked,  which  left  the  score  with 
what  we  had  made  in  the  first  half,  104  to  0. 

"  That  evening  we  had  a  banquet  at  the  Squam- 
scott.  I  was  the  only  one  of  the  eleven,  and  the 
only  one  who  took  part  in  the  game  besides  the 
referee  and  the  time-keeper,  who  could  appear 
at  table.  We  had  a  fine  spread  and  good  speeches 
were  made.  Dr.  Soule  made  an  address  in  Latin 
and  I  made  a  brief  response  in  the  same  language, 
and  we  all  sang  a  Latin  ode  composed  by  the 
pastor  of  the  church  in  the  Academy  yard,  and 
which  ended  with,  — 

*Ad  Hades  cum  Andoveria!' 

three  times,  and  the  school  yell.  I  had  a  copy  of 
it  somewhere  but  I  suppose  it  was  lost. 

"Well,  that  was  all  very  flattering  and  nice, 
especially  when  they  all  filed  by  my  chair  to  shake 
hands  and  the  faculty  said, 

'Macte,  puer,  virtute'; 

but  what  I  valued  most  was  when  I  was  called 
into  Heenan 's  and  Awful  Gardner's  rooms, 
where  they  lay  swathed  in  bandages  and  smelling 


TALES     OF     GRAMP  139 

of  iodoform,  witch-hazel  and  New  England  rum. 
I  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  and  they  both  said 
they  had  fought  the  best  men  in  England  and 
America  and  had  never  run  up  against  any  one 
who  could  hold  a  candle  to  me.  They  wanted 
to  train  me  for  the  ring  to  beat  the  best  man  in 
England,  but  I  told  them  I  was  thinking  of  study- 
ing for  the  ministry,  and  I  could  n't  give  that  up. 
"That's  all,  Dickie,  my  boy;  but  when  you 
hear  people  talking  of  the  modern  game  of 
football  and  a  few  dinky  collar-bones  broken,  just 
tell  them  of  the  way  we  played  in  '42  and  '43, 
when  men  were  killed  and  crippled  for  life, 
won  t  you  r 

"Gee!"  said  Dick,  "that  was  a  game." 
"Gee!"  chimed  in  the  students,  "I  guess  we 
must  be  going  " ;  and  they  stole  off  on  tiptoe,  while 
Gramp  winked  at  Daniel  and  filled  his  pipe 
afresh. 

On  another  occasion  Gramp  had  been  holding 
forth  to  a  select  crowd  on  a  favorite  hobby  of  his. 
Gramp  always  maintained  that  if  he  had  a  few 
acres  of  land  and  one  thousand  hens  he  could 
readily  make  at  least  one  thousand  dollars  per 
year,  or  an  average  of  one  dollar  per  biddy.  With 
care  of  an  extraordinary  nature  fifteen  hundred 
dollars  would  be  not  unreasonable. 

Various  opinions  were  advanced,  and  finally 


140  FARMING     IT 

Daniel's  opinion  was  asked ;  and  in  reply  he  im- 
provised the  following  sonata. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Daniel,  with  his  at- 
tractive smile,  "I  will  admit  that  my  friend 
George  knows  more  about  old  harnesses  and 
pre-colonial  buggies  than  any  man  in  our  vicin- 
ity ;  but  as  for  hens,  he  knows  absolutely  nothing. 
Now  I  have  studied  into  the  matter,  experimented 
a  good  deal,  and  have  been  the  wiser  by  experi- 
ence. I  never  raised  a  hen  that  did  n't  cost  me 
three  dollars,  and  which  would  have  sold  under 
the  most  favorable  conditions  for  seventy-five 
cents.  I  never  got  a  dozen  of  eggs  from  iny  hens 
that  did  n't  stand  me  forty-eight  cents  when  the 
market  price  was  twenty-two,  and  a  dollar  and 
seventy-five  when  the  market  was  forty-eight. 
I  never  ate  one  of  my  chickens  at  a  less  price  than 
sixty  cents  a  pound  when  Boston  quotations 
were  twenty- four." 

"Nonsense,  Daniel,"  interrupted  Gramp  with 
a  sniff,  "you  did  n't  know  how  to  go  about  it." 

"I  tell  you,  George,"  said  Daniel,  raising  his 
voice,  "I  know  what  I  am  talking  about.  What 
do  you  suppose  your  son's  experience  is.?" 

"  What  ?  him ! "  said  Gramp  in  disgust.  "  Why, 
if  he  drank  a  glass  of  cistern  water,  it  would  cost 
him  ten  cents." 

"Well,"  said  Daniel,  "I  guess  he  is  no  worse 
than  the  rest  of  us,  but  let  me  give  you  my  ex- 


TALES     OF     GRAMP  141 

perience.  You  say  a  hen  ought  to  average  a  dollar 
a  year  profit.  That  is  all  right  provided  it  did  n't 
cost  anything  to  keep  a  hen  during  that  time.  But 
the  profit  must  be  figured  on  the  cost,  and  the 
question  is,  what  does  it  cost  to  keep  a  hen  a 
year.^   Isn't  that  so,  boys.?" 

"That's  all  right,  Daniel,"  chimed  in  the  boys. 

"Well,"  rejoined  Daniel,  "what  does  it  cost  to 
keep  a  hen  a  year.?  Frankly,  I  don't  know,  for  I 
never  limited  operations  to  one  hen.  If,  as  my 
wife  has  frequently  told  me,  I  had  been  contented 
with  one  hen,  and  had  kept  her  in  a  hen-proof  en- 
closure where  she  could  n't  by  any  possibility  get 
out  and  ruin  flower-beds,  and  defile  the  front 
steps,  and  make  the  face  of  nature  a  howling, 
cackling  wilderness  from  morning  to  night,  then 
perhaps  I  would  have  known  where  I  stood,  and 
most  assuredly  would  have  known  where  she 
stood  in  the  matter. 

"  Nor  can  I  estimate  in  mere  dollars  and  cents 
the  actual  expense  of  keeping  many  hens,  for 
there  are  some  things  whose  value  cannot  be 
reduced  to  legal  tender.  So  to  average  the  thing  I 
will  estimate  my  hen-holdings  at  twenty-five 
birds.  First,  I  bought  the  twenty-five  fowl,  pay- 
ing therefor  fancy  prices  for  very  common  hens. 
I  am  glad  that  I  cannot  remember  what  they  cost 
me.  Next,  I  fed  them  generously  for  a  year,  and 
that  cost  I  cannot  estimate,  thank  Heaven !   My 


142  FARMING     IT 

time,  of  no  particular  value,  I  also  eliminate  from 
the  estimate. 

"  What  else  did  they  cost  ? 

"  First,  the  love  and  affection  of  my  wife ;  and 
really  an  unprejudiced  person  could  not  fail  to 
be  immensely  impressed  with  the  size  and  variety 
of  her  repertoire  on  the  hen  question. 

*'  Second,  the  lining  of  several  coats,  caused  by 
carelessly  putting  new  laid  eggs  into  my  pockets 
and  forgetting  them  until  I  sat  dow^n  on  them. 

"Third,  the  regard  of  kind  neighbors,  whose 
flower  and  vegetable-gardens  have  been  ruined 
by  some  other  person's  hens  masquerading  as 
mine. 

"Fourth,  the  necessity  of  repainting  at  great 
expense  a  democrat  wagon  and  a  concord,  which 
had,  without  my  knowledge  or  consent,  served 
as  roosts  during  the  winter  for  several  vagrant 
biddies  which  eschewed  the  comforts  of  the  hen- 
house. 

"  Fifth,  public  disgrace  of  the  entire  family  in 
serving  to  distinguished  guests  breakfast  bacon 
and  addled  and  explosive  eggs,  taken  by  mistake 
from  under  a  setter. 

"  Sixth,  a  permanent  scar  on  my  face,  received 
in  taking  a  setter  off  her  nest. 

"  Seventh,  my  arm  in  a  sling  for  ten  days  as  a 
result  of  separating  two  fighting  cocks,  and  re- 
ceiving a  prodigious  thump  and  a  deep  spur- 


TALES     OF     GRAMP  143 

wound  in  my  left  hand,  from  one  of  the  comba- 
tants which  was  in  the  act  of  making  a  pass  at 
his  opponent  at  the  exact  moment  I  interfered. 

"Eighth,  re-sodding  my  own  lawn  and  those  of 
several  neighbors. 

"Ninth,  loss  of  sleep  from  early  crowing  and 
consequent  mental  disturbance  and  melancholia. 

"Tenth,  my  reputation  as  a  worthy  citizen 
merged  in  the  unsavory  character  of  a  sport. 

"Eleventh,  have  become  wind-broken  from 
being  called  upon  at  any  time  of  the  day  to  join 
the  family  in  a  desperate  race  about  the  neighbor- 
hood, to  head  off  and  corral  squawking  pullets. 

"  Twelfth,  have  offered  two  dollar  and  a  half 
cups  to  local  poultry  shows  which  have  been  duly 
advertised  as  fifteen  dollar  cups,  to  my  lasting 
infamy  and  disgrace. 

"Thirteenth,  have  contracted  the  roup,  the 
pip,  and  chicken-pox  from  similarly  affected 
poultry. 

"Fourteenth,  stepped  on  a  hen  in  the  dark  at 
the  top  of  the  stairs  in  the  barn,  and  descended 
like  a  mountain  avalanche  or  a  snowslide  from 
a  tin  roof,  accompanied  by  a  tin  pail  of  corn-meal, 
a  lantern,  and  a  torrent  of  imprecations  on  hens 
in  particular  and  everything  else  in  general, 
generous  distribution  of  eggs  and  corn-meal, 
total  eclipse  of  lantern,  and  severe  fracture  of 
tin  pail. 


144  FARMING    IT 

"  Fifteenth,  protracted  lameness  caused  by  last- 
mentioned  rapid  transit. 

*'  Sixteenth,  shot  at  predatory  cat  with  chicken 
in  mouth.  Missed  cat,  but  killed  mother  hen  and 
eight  small  chicks,  broke  two  panes  of  glass,  and 
scared  an  hysterical  neighbor  into  spasms. 

"  Figure  this  out  for  yourself,  strike  a  balance 
if  you  can,  and  then  decide  *What  profiteth  it  a 
man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world,'  but  lose  every 
shred  of  his  reputation  as  a  man  and  a  brother, 
a  citizen  and  a  neighbor,  a  husband  and  a  father. 

"Well,"  said  Daniel,  rising  slowly  and  pon- 
derously, as  a  sporty-looking  individual,  driving 
a  rakish-looking  chestnut  with  boots,  drove 
into  his  yard,  "it  looks  like  a  horse  trade" ;  and 
with  one  accord  the  assembly  adjourned  to  see 
Daniel  do  up  the  sporty  stranger. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   SHOWER 

BLAZE  of  sunlight,  a  yellow  gleam 
of  dusty  road,  a  brown  expanse  of 
parched  and  dying  lawns,  of  drooping 
leaves,  a  dry  filing  of  crickets  in  the 
hayfields,  and  a  bank  of  purple-black  clouds 
rising  rapidly  in  the  west. 

Beneath  the  currant  bushes,  now  crimson  with 
fruit,  the  fowls  with  drooping  wings  and  with 
wide-opened  mouths,  pant  with  the  heat.  Not  a 
bird-song  is  heard ;  only  a  faint  and  distant  coo- 
ing from  the  pigeon-loft  makes  the  stillness  more 
marked.  All  nature  seems  prostrated  by  the  heat 
of  early  afternoon.  In  the  distance  the  faint  rattle 
of  the  mowing  machines  sounds  hot  and  dry. 

On  the  main  business  street  the  sun  blazes  with 
an  oven-like  heat.  Under  the  shade  of  the 
withered  elms  and  faded  maples  stand  the  store 
horses,  with  drooping  heads,  stamping  impa- 
tiently at  the  flies.  An  occasional  heavy  cart 
rumbles  by,  the  driver  lolling  with  throat  bare 
and  shirt  sleeves  rolled  to  his  shoulders.  The 
street  is  dry,  dusty,  panting  and  lifeless. 


146  FARMING    IT 

Suddenly  a  faint  and  prolonged  roll  of  thunder 
is  heard,  dying  away  gradually.  Then  the  silence 
is  profound,  for  every  cricket  has  ceased  its  filing. 
Then  a  quick  flash,  so  indistinct  that  it  is  well- 
nigh  invisible  and  seems  but  a  quick  vibration  of 
the  atmosphere. 

A  long  wait,  and  again  a  profound  rumble  punc- 
tuated with  deep  and  resounding  thumps,  like  a 
cannon  ball  rolled  down  the  attic-stairs,  slowly 
dies  away;  yet  the  sun  blazes  fiercely  and  the 
leaves  of  the  trees  hang  pulseless,  the  birds  are 
silent,  and  the  air  dense  and  motionless. 

Again  a  flash,  and  this  time  a  vivid  one,  and 
after  a  shorter  interval  a  thunderous  roll  of  mus- 
ketry. Suddenly  it  grows  dark,  a  greenish,  glim- 
mering, purplish  light,  then  a  brilliant  jagged 
flash  tears  across  the  blackness,  followed  by  a 
wrenching,  rattling  peal  of  thunder,  but  not  a 
drop  of  rain  falls. 

Then  with  a  roar  and  a  cloud  of  dust  the  wind 
is  upon  us.  The  trees  bend  and  writhe  and  lash 
the  air  like  giant  snakes.  There  is  a  blinding, 
vivid  flash,  a  rattling  roar  of  thunder,  and  then 
the  rain  comes.  First,  in  huge  spats  that  splash 
in  the  dust  with  large  irregular  blotches ;  then  a 
driving  torrent  that  fills  the  gutters  to  raging 
streams,  makes  foaming  sprays  of  the  conduc- 
tors, and  lays  the  grass  as  flat  as  if  a  scythe  had 
passed  over  it. 


THE     SHOWER  147 

The  darkness  has  increased  until  the  sudden 
flashes  of  lightning  seem  doubly  blinding,  the 
rain  comes  down  in  slanting  arrows,  with  a  rush- 
ing, hissing  roar  that  almost  drowns  the  thunder. 
The  sewer-holes  are  swirling  whirlpools  choked 
with  leaves,  twigs,  and  litter  of  every  sort. 

And  now  a  deluge  of  humanity,  caught  in  the 
rain  which  has  come  so  suddenly,  passes  through 
the  square  and  seeks  shelter  from  the  downpour 
in  every  direction.  It  is  interesting  to  note  the 
different  types.  It  is  possible  to  study  human 
nature  and  anatomy,  and  to  blend  instruction 
and  amusement  in  this  view  from  our  oflBce- 
windows. 

Here  comes  a  fat  woman,  with  puffy  ankles 
bulging  from  flat,  soft  shiny  shoes  with  an  elastic 
V-shaped  gore  in  the  sides.  She  wears  whity-gray 
stockings  of  generous  size,  and  toes  in.  She  is 
evidently  a  person  of  some  determination,  as  she 
elbow  s  her  way  to  the  shelter  of  the  nearest  awn- 
ing. She  is  rosy,  well-dressed,  and  evidently 
prosperous,  but  I  am  glad  I'm  not  a  fat  woman 
with  bulging  ankles  in  whity-gray  stockings. 

Three  barefooted  boys  come  next,  laughing, 
tussling,  pushing,  and  playing  tricks  on  one  an- 
other. The  rain  splashes  on  their  bare  heads 
and  drenches  them,  but  they  seek  no  shelter,  but 
shout,  laugh,  and  splash  through  the  swirling 
torrents,  like  ducks. 


148  FARMING     IT 

Then  comes  a  thin-legged,  gaunt  man  with 
loose  trousers,  too  short,  and  frock-coat,  too  long. 
Why  should  a  thin-legged,  gaunt  man  wear  loose 
trousers  and  why,  of  all  things,  a  frock-coat  ? 
The  water  drips  from  his  hat-brim  as  he  strides 
powerfully  for  shelter.  The  wind  blows  his  wet 
trousers  against  his  shanks,  disclosing  the  ex- 
treme attenuation  of  his  figure,  astonishing  to  the 
beholder. 

Look !  here  comes  a  ponderous  individual  car- 
rying an  umbrella.  He  walks  easily,  his  chest 
protrudes,  he  appears  conscious,  perhaps  a  trifle 
over-conscious,  of  his  vast  superiority  to  climatic 
conditions.  He  would  not  run  from  a  shower, 
not  he.  The  rain  pours  and  the  procession  of 
passers-by  scurry  in  every  direction.  Ordinary 
everyday  people  may  grow  excited  over  such 
trivial  matters  as  a  wetting,  but  he  has  cultivated 
the  true  spirit  of  dignity  and  repose.  He  takes 
things  as  they  come,  and  rises  superior  to  his 
surroundings. 

See,  as  he  passes  the  Town  Hall  a  gust  of  wind 
from  the  north  strikes  him.  His  umbrella  drives 
sou'-sou'-east.  He  clings  to  it  with  desperation. 
A  fatal  mistake,  for  it  goes  inside-out  like  a  boy 
doing  a  handspring.  His  imitation  panama  fol- 
lows ;  his  hair,  growing  from  the  sides  and  care- 
fully brought  up  and  pasted  over  his  cranium  to 
hide  his  baldness,  is  blown  from  its  moorings  and 


HE  CLINGS  TO   IT   WITH   DESPERATION 


THE     SHOWER  149 

flutters  fringe-like  from  a  dome  like  a  shiny 
new-laid  egg. 

From  a  calm,  peaceful,  well-balanced  philos- 
opher, he  becomes  a  raging,  gibbering  maniac. 
He  rushes  after  the  fleeing  hat  and  bounding 
umbrella.  Can  he  overtake  them  ?  The  wind  is  a 
sixty-mile-an-hour  gale,  in  gusts.  He  cannot  do 
better  than  twenty.  Away  he  goes  and  is  soon  out 
of  sight.  None  too  soon,  however,  for  although 
the  picture  is  exhilarating,  his  language  is  calcu- 
lated to  chill  the  blood,  and  his  wild,  furious 
gestures,  his  frenzied,  rolling  eyes,  are  disquiet- 
ing to  the  sensitive. 

As  he  disappears,  a  supple,  slight,  graceful 
young  lady  comes  tripping  along.  Here  is  some- 
thing worth  while.  Dorothy  Dodds  in  tan  and 
tan  hose.  She  holds  her  dress  a  trifle  high,  but  I 
can  forgive  a  good  deal  in  that  line.  See!  she 
comes  to  a  deep  puddle.  Well !  really !  that  was 
a  little  —  never  mind,  it  was  necessary,  and  she 
did  it  very  gracefully,  and  I  would  not  have 
missed  it  for  anything. 

She  is  followed  by  a  well-groomed  young  man 
who  is  so  interested  in  the  contemplation  of  her 
many  charms  that  he  walks  off  the  sidewalk  into 
about  a  foot  of  muddy  water.  Serves  him  right, 
too! 

Now  comes  an  old  scrub- woman  with  faded 
brown  shawl  closely  wrapped  about  her  bent 


150  FARMING    IT 

shoulders,  a  little  black  hat  dingy  with  age  and 
depressed  over  one  eye,  and  rubbers  through 
the  holes  of  which  the  water  squshes  as  she  plods 
along.  Rain  or  shine,  it  is  all  one  to  her  provided 
she  gets  work  enough  and  it  is  warm  enough. 
She  has  long  ceased  to  care  for  such  things.  And 
yet  she  once  was  a  fun-loving,  laughing,  trim- 
built  young  girl.  But  that  must  have  been  long 
years  ago.    Poor  old  thing! 

The  rain  still  falls.  The  streets  and  square 
are  deserted.  The  thunder  rolls  at  intervals, 
but  the  shower  is  passing.  A  gleam  of  sunshine 
strikes  through  a  rift  in  the  clouds  and  turns  the 
falling  drops  to  gold.  From  without  comes  the 
sweet  homely  song  of  the  chipping  sparrow. 


CHAPTER  XVri 

MILKING 

HAVE  bought  a  cow.  For  many  years 
I  have  looked,  longed  for,  and  lan- 
guished after  a  cow,  have  studied  the 
cow  markets,  have  always  attended 
auctions  where  cows  were  likely  to  be  sold  under 
the  hammer,  have  made  it  a  point  to  be  present 
on  the  square  Friday  afternoons  in  the  fall  sea- 
son, to  see  the  droves,  and  have  never  suflBciently 
admired  the  shrewd  and  professional  way  in 
which  huge  and  unwieldy  men  in  slouch  hats, 
blue  frocks  and  leather  boots,  and  carrying  whips, 
will  enumerate  the  good  points  of  a  particular 
animal  to  a  prospective  purchaser. 

Indeed,  it  was  always  my  ambition  and  my 
sincere  determination,  not  only  to  own  a  cow,  but 
on  some  bright  day  in  October,  when  the  frosts 
are  sharp  of  a  morning,  the  sunshine  warm  at 
noon,  and  the  air  cool  and  bracing  towards 
evening,  to  make  the  trip  from  Gilmanton  to 
Brighton  with  those  same  jolly,  fat,  and  cattle- 
flavored  men,  whom  I  so  much  admired.  How 
many   times   have   I    anticipated   the   pleasant 


152  FARMING     IT 

evenings  in  the  country  taverns  on  the  route,  the 
long  rides  through  the  country  roads  piled  high 
with  red  and  yellow  leaves,  the  chaffering  and 
bargaining  in  the  village  squares,  the  meeting  of 
strange  droves  and  the  locking  of  horns  of  rival 
leaders,  the  shouts  of  the  drovers,  the  wild  dashes 
after  escaping  cattle,  the  thousand  and  one  bits  of 
experience  and  information  that  one  would  glean, 
and  the  pleasant  acquaintances  one  would  make ! 

Alas !  those  days  have  passed,  and  with  them 
the  jolly  giants  of  the  road ;  the  "  Drover  rides  on 
his  raids  no  more,'*  and  the  only  thing  left  is 
memory.  No,  I  have  forgotten,  my  cow  is  left,  for 
I  truly  believe  my  cow  is  one  of  the  first  animals 
driven  over  the  road  in  the  old  days.  For  she  is 
old,  my  friends,  a  veritable  antique,  a  sort  of  colo- 
nial sideboard  of  a  cow,  with  curved,  spindly  legs, 
and  knobs  and  peaks  to  hang  things  on,  and  hol- 
lows to  hold  things,  and  handles  to  take  hold  of. 

The  abandoned  villain  and  former  friend  who 
sold  me  this  cow  assured  me  that  this  was  a  cow 
as  was  a  cow,  an  easy  milker,  kind,  eats  next 
to  nothing,  cheapest  cow  to  keep  he  ever  saw, 
nearly  fills  a  pail  to  the  brim  every  milking, — 
so  she  does,  a  quart  pail, —  and  all  for  thirty-five 
dollars. 

Now  I  had  inquired  and  found  that  a  good  cow 
ought  to  bring  seventy-five  dollars,  and  here  was 
(at  least  according  to  my  friend's  description)  a 


MILKING  153 

rather  remarkable  animal  offered  for  thirty-five. 
It  was  too  good  a  chance  to  lose,  and  I  embraced 
the  opportunity  and  made  the  purchase.  If  I  had 
embraced  the  cow  instead,  I  should  have  found 
out  what  a  bony  old  hat-rack  she  was.  But  as 
she  was  in  a  close  stall  in  a  dark  barn,  I  did  not 
take  the  opportunity  of  examining  my  purchase 
with  the  care  one  should  observe  in  making  im- 
portant deals. 

I  only  knew  that  she  had  soulful  eyes,  a  trust- 
ing manner,  and  smelled  like  a  freshly  fertilized 
lawn  on  a  hot  evening  when  the  "  Current  Events 
Club"  is  dining  with  your  wife. 

As  the  place  of  the  transaction  was  about  ten 
miles  from  my  residence,  I  sent  a  husky  German 
with  a  cow-rack  to  bring  her  home.  It  seemed 
somewhat  like  sending  a  carriage  for  an  invalid, 
but  I  was  anxious  to  get  her  home  and  see  if  she 
could  fill  that  ten-quart  pail  I  had  purchased  the 
night  before. 

The  German  started  before  light  Sunday  morn- 
ing, and  at  about  noontime,  when  happy  children 
in  white  were  returning  from  church  accom- 
panied by  their  mothers  and  grandmothers,  and 
smug  gentlemen  in  frock-coats  and  white  neck- 
ties, and  bearing  hymn  books  and  "  Day  Springs  " 
under  their  arms,  were  coming  home  from  divine 
worship,  and  the  air  was  full  of  the  sweet  incense 
of  the  Sabbath,  Ludwig  drove  through  Front 


154  FARMING     IT 

Street,  perched  on  the  rack,  and  smoking  a  long 
meerschaum.  Inside  the  rack  was  a  light  russet- 
colored  animal,  evidently  made  of  barrel-staves. 
Had  the  animal  not  been  inside  the  rack,  it  would 
have  been  difficult  if  not  impossible  to  distinguish 
the  cow  from  the  rack. 

He  drove  into  the  yard,  and  without  speaking 
unloaded  the  animal,  received  his  pay,  and 
started  to  leave.  Just  before  he  got  out  of  the 
yard,  he  stopped  and  said,  "Mist'  Shute,  dat 
cow  he  die  pret'  soon.  He  pretty  old  cow." 

I  dragged  her  into  a  stall,  fed  her  with  corn- 
stalks, hay,  carrots,  middlings,  gluten,  cotton- 
seed meal,  shorts,  sweet  apples,  and  potato  par- 
ings, until  she  was  distended  like  a  balloon,  and 
waited  expectantly  for  milking  time. 

Hours  dragged  slowly,  but  still  the  cow  ate  on. 
I  made  a  hurried  calculation  on  the  back  of  a 
shingle,  and  found  I  had  given  her  eighty-three 
cents'  worth  of  food,  and  the  supply  in  front  of 
her  was  fast  running  short.  But  five  o'clock 
came  before  she  bellowed  for  a  new  supply,  and 
I  grasped  my  bright  new  pail,  turned  up  a  bucket 
for  a  milking-stool,  took  off  my  outer  garments, 
my  collar,  cuffs,  and  necktie,  hung  them  on  vari- 
ous projections  of  her  anatomy,  sat  down  and 
began  to  milk.  The  first  squeeze  I  made  sent  a 
hissing  snowy  stream  into  one  shoe.  The  next 
connected  with  the  palm  of  my  hand  and  fizzled 


MILKING  165 

a  fine  spray  all  over  me.  The  third  did  not  mate- 
rialize, because  she  side-stepped  away  from  me 
so  suddenly  that  she  broke  my  grip  and  I  found 
myself  on  all  fours  with  my  head  in  the  milk- 
pail.  I  arose  and  apostrophized  her  profanely, 
then  sat  down  and  resumed  practice.  This  time 
I  hit  the  pail  twice  before  she  swung  around  in 
my  direction  and  landed  me,  heels  up.  I  arose, 
smote  her  several  thumps  with  the  bucket,  and 
invented  an  entirely  new  cuss-word  to  suit  the 
occasion. 

Then  I  began,  again  taking  the  precaution  to 
sit  as  far  from  her  rear  elevation  as  possible.  This 
time  she  kicked  me.  It  is  astonishing  how  far 
forward  a  cow  can  reach  with  her  hind  foot.  I 
retaliated  with  a  drop  kick  in  her  stomach,  which 
sounded  like  a  bass-drum.  She  made  another 
pass  at  me  with  her  hind  foot,  but  I  saw  it  coming, 
dodged,  and  punted  her  to  the  forty-five  yard 
line  again,  where  she  was  held  for  downs.  This 
closed  the  first  round  with  honors  even. 

The  next  round  commenced  with  both  com- 
batants feinting  and  dodging  all  over  the  ring. 
I  secured  a  strangle  hold  on  her,  and  extracted 
about  a  wine-glass  full  before  she  felled  me  to 
earth  and  trod  over  my  prostrate  person.  I  was 
not  hurt,  through  that  special  providence  that 
watches  over  fools  and  drunken  men,  and  it  is 
well  known  that  I  am  a  temperate  man. 


156  FARMING     IT 

After  I  had  put  my  knee  in  the  pail  and  pulled 
and  bent  it  into  shape,  I  gave  her  a  quart  or  more 
gluten  to  take  up  her  attention,  and  fell  to  again. 
This  time  I  succeeded  better,  and  before  she  had 
eaten  the  gluten  I  had  nearly  covered  the  bot- 
tom of  the  pail  with  foaming  milk,  interspersed 
with  hayseed,  dandruff  and  sawdust.  Having 
finished  her  gluten,  she  looked  around,  appeared 
surprised  at  my  determination,  and  put  her  foot 
in  the  pail ;  I  called  time,  emptied  the  pail  for  ex- 
pectant fowl,  which,  by  the  way,  have  formed 
the  habit  of  gathering  around  me  during  the 
milking  hour,  or  hour  and  a  half,  wiped  the  pail 
out  with  my  handkerchief,  and  took  a  fresh  hold. 
This  time  I  retired  as  far  forward  as  her  shoulder, 
reached  a  couple  of  yards  backward,  and,  in 
spite  of  her  kicking,  she  could  not  locate  me. 

Thus  did  my  anatomical  peculiarities,  coupled 
with  science,  prevail  over  brute  strength.  I  smiled 
grimly  from  my  point  of  vantage,  and  squeezed 
and  pulled  manfully,  while  that  wretched  cow 
stood  with  her  back  humped  and  her  belly 
drawn  up,  holding  back  with  all  her  bovine 
might. 

You  have  all  heard  how  the  crocodile  lies  in 
wait  until  his  prey  gets  within  reach  of  its  power- 
ful tail,  when  with  a  circular  sweep  it  is  thrown 
into  the  cavernous  jaws.  This  cow  suddenly  re- 
versed the  programme,  for  she  violently  swung 


MILKING  157 

her  head  round,  caught  me  in  the  rear  with  her 
knobby  horns,  butted  me  within  reach  of  her 
hind  leg,  kicked  me  back,  butted  me  again,  and  I 
escaped  only  by  abjectly  crawling  out  of  the  stall. 

I  threw  up  the  sponge.  It  was  a  clean  knock- 
out. I  could  not  have  gone  back  into  the  ring  if 
the  referee  had  counted  one  hundred.  But  I  felt 
that  if  that  cow  was  not  milked  that  night,  there 
was  danger  of  an  explosion  before  morning,  so 
I  called  in  a  neighbour  of  ripe  experience,  who, 
to  my  great  horror,  took  a  seat  on  the  off  side  of 
the  animal. 

"Look  out,"  I  yelled,  "don't  get  on  that  side, 
she  will  kill  you." 

"What  are  you  talking  about.?"  he  inquired, 
with  astonishment,  "have  you  been  milking  on 
the  right  side  ?*' 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "  of  course  I  have." 

"Why,  you  plumb  idiot,  it  was  a  wonder  she 
didn't  kill  you,"  he  replied. 

"She  has,"  I  assured  him. 

Since  that  time  my  intimacy  with  that  cow  has 
ripened  into  true  friendship.  We  get  along  charm- 
ingly. Like  Bill  Nye's  cow,  she  gives  milk  fre- 
quently. She  has  phenomenal  digestive  powers 
and  eats  continuously.  What  becomes  of  her  food 
is  a  question  to  baffle  a  government  expert.  She 
has  not  gained  an  ounce  of  flesh.  Theoretically, 
she  ought  to  give  about  forty  quarts  per  day. 


158  FARMING     IT 

Practically,  she  reluctantly  yields  about  three 
pints,  of  which  one  pint  is  distributed  more  or 
less  impartially  over  my  clothes,  the  cow,  and  the 
surroundings. 

My  milk  costs  me  approximately  twenty-six 
and  one-half  cents  a  quart. 

Is  there  any  one  who  wants  to  buy  a  cow  that 
is  a  cow,  an  easy  milker,  kind,  eats  next  to  no- 
thing, cheapest  cow  to  keep  you  ever  saw,  nearly 
fills  a  pail  to  the  brim  at  every  milking  ?  She  is 
a  blue-blooded  animal  with  a  pedigree.  I  haven't 
the  pedigree,  but  I  know  she  is  blue-blooded, 
because  she  gives  blue-edged  milk. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    CALF ANOTHER   FOOTRACE 

XPERIENCED  farmers  have  all 
united  in  an  opinion  that  a  cow  should 
go  dry  at  least  six  weeks  before  the 
calf  comes.  This  serves  a  double  pur- 
pose. The  cow  gets  a  rest  and  a  chance  to  re- 
cuperate from  the  strain  of  giving  a  pint  of  milk 
in  a  ten-quart  pail  twice  a  day,  and  the  merry 
farmer  has  six  weeks  to  get  the  cramps  out  of  his 
hands,  caused  by  trying  to  get  the  cow  to  part 
with  that  pint  of  milk,  and  the  stain  out  of  his 
soul,  caused  by  his  lying  about  the  amount. 

In  this  way  much  good  is  done  to  the  old  line- 
back  and  to  the  old  moss-back,  and  both  are 
benefited  to  a  very  great  degree.  The  cow  grows 
fat  on  good  food  and  inaction,  but  the  farmer 
grows  thinner,  if  possible,  because  one  source  of 
income,  to-wit  the  milk,  is  cut  off. 

However,  as  I  was  assured  that  this  was  the 
proper  thing,  I  was  determined  to  carry  it  out  at 
all  hazards.  I  didn't  just  know  how  to  go  to  work. 
If  the  cow  had  been  addicted  to  smoking,  I  could 
have  made  her  smoke  rattan,  which,  as  every 


160  FARMING    IT 

boy  knows,  dries  up  the  blood,  and,  of  course, 
could  have  no  other  effect  upon  the  milk. 

This  being  out  of  the  question,  I  then  thought 
of  giving  her  doses  of  alum.  You  see,  when  I  was 
a  boy  and  had  a  canker  in  my  mouth,  which  was 
always  explained  to  me  by  my  mother  as  being  the 
direct  result  of  saying  bad  words,  and  which  for 
many  good  reasons  I  could  not  deny,  a  little  alum 
rubbed  on  the  affected  part  puckered  up  my  lips 
so  that  they  looked  like  the  stem  end  of  a  green 
tomato,  and  made  my  mouth  so  dry  that  I 
couldn't  spit  through  my  teeth,  another  accom- 
plishment of  mine,  for  a  week.  But  how  I  could 
whistle ! 

Naturally,  this  occurred  to  me  as  a  facile 
means  of  drying  up  the  old  cow,  but  before  put- 
ting it  in  operation  I  consulted  the  fountainhead 
of  all  bucolic  knowledge,  Daniel,  my  rosy  and 
jocose  neigbor. 

"How  much  milk  does  she  give.?"  queried 
Daniel,  in  answer  to  my  request  for  instructions. 

"About  a  pint  and  a  half,"  I  replied. 

"Dry!  How  much  drier  do  you  expect  to  get 
her?"  exclaimed  Daniel  with  some  heat.  "If  I 
had  a  cow  that  didn't  give  but  a  pint  at  a  milk- 
ing, I  should  think  she  was  pretty  almighty  dry. 
You  don't  want  to  endanger  your  premises  by 
getting  her  so  dry  that  you  can't  take  a  lantern 
into  the  barn,  do  you  ?" 


THE     CALF  161 

"Well,  no,"  I  replied  doubtfully,  "but  I  want 
her  dry." 

"Don't  milk  her  to-morrow,"  said  Daniel. 

So  the  next  morning  I  omitted  to  milk  her, 
and  before  noon  my  wife  was  in  tears,  three  small 
children  in  the  neighborhood  had  convulsions, 
and  five  complaints  were  entered  to  the  proper 
authorities  that  I  was  maintaining  a  nuisance  in 
keeping  a  bellowing  cow. 

So  at  noon  I  milked  her  and  got  a  quart.  Then 
I  went  to  Daniel  again. 

"Don't  feed  her,"  said  Daniel. 

So  that  noon  I  didn't  fill  the  manger,  but  tied 
her  under  an  open  shed.  Before  night,  several 
old  ladies  in  the  neighborhood  were  taken  with 
nervous  prostration,  and  I  was  served  with  a 
qito  warranto,  a  mandamus,  a  ne  exeat  regno,  a 
notice  of  a  hearing  on  a  petition  for  an  injunc- 
tion, a  libel  for  divorce,  and  arrested  on  a  warrant 
on  a  complaint  charging  me  with  conspiracy  to 
make  a  tumult, in  the  compact  part  of  the  village. 

As  the  last-mentioned  instrument  was  returna- 
ble before  my  own  court,  I  did  not  worry  about  it, 
but  hastily  fed  the  querulous  and  bellowing  ani- 
mal, and  returned  to  my  oflSce  where  I  drew  up 
as  an  answer  to  the  other  actions :  "  Necessarium 
est  quod  non  potest  aliter  se  habere."  This 
calmed  my  mind  somewhat.  I  had  at  least  got 
some  cases  on  the  docket  to  defend. 


162  FARMING     IT 

I  then  returned  to  Daniel. 

"Damn  the  cow!"  said  Daniel. 

"That  don't  amount  to  anything,"  I  replied, 
"I  have  done  that  for  months." 

"Kill  her  then,"  he  retorted,  and  washed  his 
hands  of  the  affair. 

This  was  perhaps  the  best  advice  he  had  given, 
but  I  couldn't  bring  myself  to  do  violence  to  so 
old  and  tried  a  chum.  We  had  had  too  many 
wildly  exciting  times  together.  She  was  rough, 
but  I  always  could  depend  on  her  to  do  the  best 
she  could  and  give  me  a  square  tussle. 

In  due  time  the  calf  came  and  was  pronounced 
a  beauty.  He  —  much  to  my  regret  it  was  a  he 
—  did  not  seem  exactly  handsome  or  shapely. 
On  the  contrary,  he  seemed  a  sprawling  heap  of 
awkward,  bony,  wobbly  legs. 

Indeed,  he  spent  the  best  part  of  the  first  day 
in  awkward  attempts  to  rise,  and  prodigious  suc- 
cesses in  the  way  of  heavy  crumpled-up  tumbles. 
But  in  a  few  days,  Moses!  how  that  calf  could 
run,  kick  and  butt. 

We  naturally  had  a  little  reception  for  it.  You 
see,  a  calf  is  a  new  thing  to  us  and  we  were  proud 
of  it,  —  her,  —  him,  I  mean.  So  one  day  as  I 
was  exhibiting  it,  —  him  —  to  several  neighbors, 
he  reached  forward,  caught  hold  of  a  button  on 
my  vest,  just  over  the  pit  of  my  stomach,  and 
mouthed  it  in  the  most  cunning  manner.   I  held 


THE     CALF  163 

my  breath  so  as  not  to  scare  it,  and  the  ladies 
were  in  ecstasies.  I  did  not  hold  my  breath  long, 
however,  for  suddenly  the  animal,  with  the  nat- 
ural intent  to  increase  the  flow  of  milk,  gave  me 
a  terrific  bunt  with  its  nose,  in  which  all  the  weight 
of  its  body  and  all  the  convulsive  power  of  its  sud- 
denly stiffened  legs  were  expended. 

All  the  breath  in  my  body  was  expelled  with 
such  violence  that  I  only  regained  it  after  a  par- 
oxysm of  hoarse  gasps  and  startling  hawks, 
which  antics  and  involuntary  inch-wormings,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  entertained  my  callers  far  more 
than  the  antics  of  the  calf. 

When  the  calf  was  three  weeks  old,  it  had  de- 
veloped speed  of  a  race-horse  quality  and  fre- 
quently dragged  me  about  the  premises  with  un- 
paralleled swiftness,  and  at  the  end  of  a  stout 
rope.  This  was  good  exercise  for  both  of  us, 
and  kept  down  the  increasing  flesh  of  over- 
maturity. 

One  day,  as  I  was  coming  from  the  office,  I 
saw  the  calf  coming  down  the  street  from  my 
premises  at  a  wild  gallop,  flinging  up  his  heels 
and  dragging  a  long  rope.  I  was  not  quick  enough 
to  head  him  off,  but  with  rare  presence  of  mind 
jumped  with  both  feet  on  the  rope  as  the  animal 
shot  by  me  like  a  flash  of  lightning.  TVTien  I  lit 
I  was  nearly  a  rod  from  the  starting-place  and 
on  my  head  and  shoulders.   People  who  saw  me 


164  FARMING     IT 

in  the  air  said  I  looked  like  a  pinwheel,  so  rapid 
were  my  revolutions. 

I  was  mad !  Thoroughly  mad !  Fighting  mad ! 
I  would  catch  that  devilish  calf  if  I  burst  some- 
thing; and  I  took  up  the  running. 

Scientists  say  that  the  wild  ass  of  the  desert  is 
the  swiftest  of  all  animals.  Be  it  so ;  but  without 
desiring  to  institute  any  comparisons,  I  must  ac- 
knowledge that  a  certain  tame  one  developed  the 
most  astonishing  burst  of  speed  on  Pine  and  Front 
Streets  on  that  day  that  ever  drew  the  attention 
of  the  sporting  world. 

Round  the  comer  of  Pine  and  Front  we  went, 
I  on  one  wheel  and  the  calf  heeling  dangerously 
to  leeward  and  with  its  keel  half  out  of  water. 

Righting  ourselves,  we  flew  along  like  Inter- 
national Cup  winners.  In  front  of  the  Seminary 
entrance,  by  terrific  sprinting,  I  had  nearly  closed 
the  gap  between  us.  From  the  Seminary  entrance 
to  Tan  Lane  the  calf  drew  away  from  me,  as  my 
spark-plug  fell  out  or  my  carbureter  failed  to 
carburet. 

At  the  lower  part  of  the  Academy  yard  I  was 
almost  within  reach  of  my  opponent's  rudder, 
but  failed  to  grasp  it.  Suddenly  he  tacked  abruptly 
into  Elm  Street,  while  I  skidded  to  Conner's 
fence  and  ripped  off  a  tire,  but  kept  on  with  fran- 
tic gasping  jumps.  Just  in  front  of  the  Unitarian 
Church  I  had  made  up  my  lost  space,  when  the 


I   WAS   SIAD!   THOROUGHLY   MAD!   FIGHTING   MAD! 


THE     CALF  165 

calf  suddenly  stopped  and  we  came  together  like 
two  football  tackles,  amid  a  cloud  of  dust.  I  had 
run  down  my  prize. 

As  I  slowly  returned  up  Front  Street,  breath- 
less but  triumphant,  I  received  many  laughing 
congratulations  over  my  fleetness  and  determina- 
tion. Just  as  I  was  about  to  reenter  my  yard, 
I  heard  Daniel  from  his  piazza  across  the  way 
shout,  *'  Say,  old  man,  no  end  obliged  to  you  for 
bringing  back  my  calf.  Saved  me  lots  of  trouble. 
Let  the  man  hitch  him  in  my  bam,  please." 

Sure  enough,  a  glance  showed  my  calf  lying 
quietly  under  a  tree,  safely  tethered  to  a  crowbar, 
while  I  had  chased  his  infernal  calf  over  two 
miles  at  race-horse  speed.  In  a  sort  of  daze  I 
handed  the  grinning  man  the  rope,  looked  at  my 
torn  and  dusty  clothes,  my  shoe  with  the  sole 
gone  and  my  ruined  hat. 

"  Curse  your  calf!"  I  hissed,  and  limped  pain- 
fully into  my  house. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

AMATEUR  THEATRICALS 

BELIEVE  that  a  country  town  or 
neighborhood  can  receive  no  greater 
benefit  than  in  the  introduction  of 
new  blood.  My  brief  experience  as  a 
farmer  has  taught  me  this,  and  my  long  experi- 
ence as  a  citizen  of  a  country  town  has  convinced 
me  that  in  no  way  can  a  country  community 
make  good  its  loss  of  young  men  who  have  an 
ambition  awakened  in  schools  and  colleges  to 
go  to  larger  communities,  than  by  offering  every 
possible  inducement  for  young  men  and  women 
to  come  in  from  other  communities. 

For  instance,  if  Ike  Peterson's  son  Bill  goes  to 
Boston  or  New  York  or  Seattle  or  Chicago,  and 
becomes  an  active  and  influential  member  of  the 
law  firm  of  Strasser,  Ellis  &  Co.,  our  town  has 
lost  one  who  might  have  been  a  useful  citizen. 
But  if  at  about  the  time  of  Bill's  departure,  the 
junior  member  of  the  selfsame  firm  should,  cu- 
riously enough,  decide  to  quit  the  city  for  life 
on  the  farm,  or  amid  semi-rural  surroundings, 
and,  more  curiously  still,  should  decide  to  be- 


AMATEUR    THEATRICALS    167 

come  a  free  lance  in  the  same  community  that 
Bill  has  quit,  why  then  we  "  break  even,"  to  use  a 
sporting  phrase,  at  least  so  far  as  number  goes ; 
but  in  reality  we  are  better  off,  for  we  get  a  citi- 
zen with  advanced  ideas,  imbued  with  the  hus- 
tling spirit  of  city  life,  which  cannot  fail  to  have 
an  influence  for  good  on  the  small  community. 
To  be  sure.  New  York  or  Seattle  or  Chicago  or 
Boston  has  Bill,  which  we  hope  is  a  good  thing 
for  them  and  for  Bill.  But  the  effect  of  Bill's  in- 
vasion is  not  immediate  or  in  any  way  disturbing 
to  the  urban  community. 

But  if,  instead  of  the  junior  partner  of  the 
firm,  the  young  and  zealous  assistant  pastor  of 
one  of  the  churches  of  Seattle  or  Chicago  or  Bos- 
ton or  New  York  becomes  pastor  of  the  local 
Congregational  or  Baptist  or  Unitarian  or  Epis- 
copal Church,  why  then  we  go  Chicago  or  Bos- 
ton or  New  York  or  Seattle  "  one  better,"  as  the 
moral  status  of  the  community  is  jacked  up  much 
more  effectively  than  that  of  Boston  or  New 
York  or  Seattle  or  Chicago  is  on  account  of  Bill's 
arrival. 

By  this  means  only  is  the  professional,  social, 
financial,  and  moral  balance  preserved. 

Now  we  have  had  accessions  to  our  neighbor- 
hood. I  disclaim  modestly  any  responsibility 
for  the  fact,  for  the  new  neighbors  would  un- 
doubtedly have  come  had  we  not  lived   there. 


168  FARMING    IT 

In  fact,  one  of  the  neighbors  came  in  spite  of 
my  repeated  warnings,  showing  how  little  he 
cared  for  my  opinion. 

It  was  in  this  way:  one  day  a  sturdy,  stocky, 
auburn-haired  (I  am  better  acquainted  with 
him  now  and  call  it  red)  young  fellow  came  into 
my  oflSce,  and  wished  to  see  me  for  a  moment. 

I  knew  he  was  in  no  trouble,  for  he  was  too 
fresh  and  bright-looking.  I  knew  by  his  well- 
bred,  respectful  manner  that  he  was  no  book 
agent  or  seller  of  patented  articles. 

So  I  willingly  dropped  whatever  I  had  on  hand, 
and  invited  him  to  the  inner  office.  He  showed 
his  directness  by  coming  at  once  to  the  point. 

"  I  am  a  doctor  and  wish  to  settle  in  your  town. 
Is  there  a  chance  for  me  ?  " 

"Mighty  little,  I'm  afraid;  there  are  Doctors 
Blank,  Dash,  and  Hyphen,  and  Brackett,  and 
Comma,  and  Colon,  allopaths.  Doctors  Capital 
and  Lowercase,  homoeopaths,  two  college  veteri- 
narians, half  a  dozen  amateurs  practising  in  vio- 
lation of  law,  and  several  old  ladies  without  waist- 
lines who  are  popularly  supposed  to  know  more 
than  all  the  doctors  in  a  certain  class  of  cases." 

"Gee!"  replied  the  young  man,  "it  don't  look 
very  promising,  does  it.^" 

"Not  unless  you  are  a  good  doctor  and  have 
money  enough  to  wait,"  I  replied. 

"Well,"  he  said  slowly,  "I  think  I  am  a  good 


AMATEUR     THEATRICALS    169 

doctor.  At  least  I  have  been  through  a  good  deal 
of  preparation.  But  as  for  money,  I  have  enough 
to  fit  up  a  house  and  ojQSce,  and  wait  perhaps 
six  months.  How  many  of  these  doctors  own 
automobiles  .^" 

"Three,"  I  answered,  "and  the  rest  have 
horses." 

"  Hm,"  he  said,  "  that  looks  better.  If  they  can 
all  afford  horses,  I  ought  to  be  able  to  get  along 
by  walking  or  using  a  three-year-old  bike." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "you  might.  But  I  think  you 
had  better  try  some  other  place.  By  the  way, 
come  to  lunch  with  me  and  I  will  talk  it  over 
with  you." 

"Thank  you,  no,"  he  answered.  "I  am  going 
to  look  the  town  over  and  see  what  I  can  of  it 
before  taking  my  train  to  Boston."  And  after 
offering  a  fee,  which  I  declined,  he  thanked  me 
and  withdrew. 

I  had  nearly  forgotten  him  when  one  day  he 
returned,  bringing  with  him  a  very  attractive 
young  lady  whom  he  introduced.  Although  they 
were  well-bred  and  consequently  not  in  the  least 
demonstrative,  it  was  at  once  evident  that  they 
had  more  than  a  passing  interest  in  each  other. 

As  before,  he  came  to  the  point  with  his  usual 
directness.  "  Well,  IVIr.  Shute,  I  have  considered 
the  matter  of  settling,  and  I  have  decided  to  come 
to  Exeter." 


170  FARMING     IT 

"Bully,"  I  replied  in  the  expressive  slang  of 
the  period.  "  I  think  you  are  making  a  mistake, 
but  I  like  your  grit  and  I  am  glad  you  are  com- 
ing; for  Exeter,  like  all  country  places,  needs 
new  blood  and  new  ideas.  Now  what  are  you 
going  to  do  about  quarters  ?" 

"That 's  just  what  I  want  to  see  you  about," 
he  said. 

"  And  it  is  the  most  important  thing  of  all ! " 

And  I  rapidly  gave  him  the  names  of  several 
places  I  thought  he  might  get,  among  them  an 
attractive  little  house  not  far  from  mine. 

The  next  day  I  found  he  had  engaged  that 
place,  and  a  few  days  later  he  began  to  move  in 
his  furniture;  but  I  saw  nothing  more  of  the 
young  lady  for  a  while. 

The  other  addition  to  the  neighborhood  came 
rather  suddenly,  for  one  day  in  the  early  fall,  on 
returning  to  the  oflSce,  I  saw  in  front  of  a  neigh- 
boring house  an  immense  van  of  household 
goods,  an  excited  father,  a  helpless  mother  of  a 
large  family,  a  colored  servant  and  six  or  seven 
children,  watching  with  devouring  interest  two 
brawny  policemen  who  were  forcibly  removing 
two  very  drunken  draymen  from  the  vicinity  with 
prodigious  exertion,  in  which  catch-as-catch-can, 
Grseco-Roman,  collar-and-elbow,  hitch-and-trip, 
"side  holts,"  grapevine  twists,  hammer-locks, 
cross-counters,  straight  lefts,   jabs,   upper-cuts, 


AMATEUR    THEATRICALS    171 

pivots,  and  other  technical  manoeuvres  of  the 
ring  and  mat  alternated  with  one  another  in  be- 
wildering rapidity,  and  a  quality  of  language  was 
being  handed  round  that  would  chill  the  blood  of 
a  pirate. 

Now  two  men,  however  big,  strong  and  willing, 
cannot  readily,  and  without  assistance,  subdue, 
handcuff,  and  abduct  two  other  men  equally  big, 
and,  further,  inspired  by  a  mixture  of  wood-al- 
cohol, fusel  oil  and  other  powerful  stimulants, 
known  as  curry-comb  whiskey,  even  when  the 
two  first-named  gentlemen  are  clothed  in  the 
majesty  of  the  law,  blue  coats,  brass  buttons,  and 
helmets  that  rest  mainly  on  their  spreading  ears. 

And  so,  as  a  law-abiding  citizen  and  a  magis- 
trate, it  was  my  duty  to  go  to  the  assistance  of 
my  oflScers  and  to  deliver  them  from  their  ene- 
mies, which  I  did,  without  much  enthusiasm, 
however;  and  with  the  assistance  of  a  lusty 
peasant  who  came  by  in  a  farm-wagon,  and  the 
excited  father  of  the  family,  we  soon  had  the 
miscreants  safely  trussed  and  piled  into  the  farm- 
wagon,  which  was  pressed  into  service  with  the 
horse  and  the  driver. 

This  accomplished,  and  the  prisoners  having 
disappeared  townwards  amid  a  prodigious  rat- 
tling of  loose  wagon-wheels  and  terrific  blas- 
phemy of  the  chained,  I  turned  my  attention  to 
my  new  neighbors.    They  were  in  a  very  un- 


172  FARMING    IT 

pleasant  predicament.  Their  entire  household 
goods  were  in  the  van,  including  such  supplies 
as  were  necessary  for  immediate  use.  Luckily  it 
was  warm  weather,  and  their  night's  lodging 
depended  upon  their  strength  and  ability  to  dis- 
entangle and  reconstruct  their  household  furni- 
ture, and  night  was  coming  on  apace. 

There  was  but  one  thing  to  do, — to  march 
them  all  over  to  my  house,  there  to  take  pot-luck 
with  us. 

I  was  a  little  more  confident  than  usual  in  re- 
lation to  pot-luck,  for  that  morning  I  had  sent 
home  a  particularly  fine  and  large  roast,  and 
green  corn  and  vegetables  were  abundant  in  my 
garden,  and  milk  and  eggs  were  always  at  hand. 

My  wife  and  my  children,  who  had  arrived  in 
time  to  see  the  closing  rally  when  we  "flopped," 
as  Dick  expressed  it,  the  draymen,  somewhat 
to  his  disgust,  as  he  came  just  too  late  to  take  an 
active  part  in  the  struggle,  added  their  eloquence, 
and  we  finally  persuaded  the  entire  family  to 
accept  our  hospitality,  and  after  a  hearty  supper, 
we  set  to  work  on  their  goods. 

How  easy  it  is  to  work  for  other  people  when 
you  are  doing  it  out  of  neighborly  good-feeling! 
How  ingenuity  is  awakened  that  you  thought  you 
never  possessed !  Beds  were  put  together  that  in 
the  annual  spring-cleaning  would  have  defied 
us.    Stovepipes  were  fitted  that  under  ordinary 


AMATEUR    THEATRICALS    173 

circumstances  would  have  made  a  tinsmith  be- 
come a  gibbering  maniac.  Stoves  were  lifted 
and  pushed  into  place  that  would  have  made 
Hercules'  labors  seem  like  basket-ball. 

By  nine  o'clock  the  beds  were  up,  the  carpets 
in  place,  but  not  tacked,  the  range  drawing  like 
a  furnace,  the  yet  unbroken  crockery  arranged 
on  the  shelves,  pictures  hung,  and,  what  was 
best  of  all,  we  had  become  in  those  few  short 
hours  better  acquainted  with  each  and  every 
member  of  the  family  than  we  would  have  been 
had  they  lived  there  for  years;  and  their  opinion 
of  our  town,  which  had  been  steadily  going 
down  from  the  moment  they  left  their  old  home, 
had  mounted  to  a  really  undeserved  height. 

Indeed,  when  at  a  late  hour  we  dragged  our 
tired  legs  upstairs  to  bed,  we  felt  that  we  had 
really  done  something  worth  while,  and  realized 
how  thoroughly  we  would  have  appreciated  a 
little  attention  of  the  sort  when  we  entered  an 
alien  neighborhood. 

The  next  morning  the  entire  family  of  chil- 
dren were  over  in  time  to  see  me  milk  the  cow 
and  rub  down  the  horses,  and  as  they  had  never 
seen  anything  of  the  kind  before,  I  was  com- 
pelled to  answer  about  a  thousand  questions 
before  they  fully  understood  matters. 

Up  to  this  time  the  neighborhood  had  been 
emphatically  not   a  neighborhood   of  children, 


174  FARMING     IT 

but  rather  a  neighborhood  of  dignified  elders, 
and  the  addition  of  a  half  dozen  of  irrepressibles 
did  much  to  enliven  things.  To  be  sure  their  ad- 
vent was  regarded  by  the  neighborhood  with 
mixed  feelings,  in  which  distrust  was  a  predom- 
inating ingredient;  but  the  neighborhood  had 
successfully  weathered  our  invasion,  and  as  some 
of  the  most  conservative  said,  "We  have  seen 
worse  things,  and  have  lived." 

All  this  time  the  young  doctor  had  been  paint- 
ing and  papering  his  little  cottage,  impaling  him- 
self on  tacks  and  wire  nails,  abrading  his  shins 
against  sharp  corners,  raking,  mowing  and  sod- 
ding his  lawn,  and  getting  himself  into  very  seri- 
ous complications  indeed  with  paint  and  glue 
and  oil  and  wax  and  adhesive  paste,  and  lawn 
mowers  that  would  n't  mow  and  hammers  the 
heads  of  which  flew  off  and  broke  the  chandeliers, 
and  rakes  which  he  stepped  on  and  which  flew 
up  and  hit  him  grievous  blows  on  the  brows,  and 
faucets  which  he  forgot  to  shut  off  and  which 
leaked  all  over  the  front-room  ceiling,  which  fell 
down  on  his  head,  and  shut-offs  that  squirted 
ice-cold  water  up  his  sleeve  and  down  his  neck, 
and  flat  baskets  of  crockery  and  china  over 
which  he  fell  with  terrific  crashes  and  unexpur- 
gated  oratory,  and  which  he  subsequently  tried 
ineffectually  to  piece  together  with  cementine 
and  fish  glue,  and  finally  buried  in  the  back  yard. 


AMATEUR    THEATRICALS    175 

I  admired  and  pitied  the  doctor  and  loaned 
him  everything  I  could  think  of  in  the  way  of 
tools  and  supplies  and  cheerful  comment  and 
disinterested  advice,  and  physical  assistance  in 
the  way  of  personal  services  of  myself,  my  wife 
and  children,  my  horses  and  my  cow  and  the 
stranger  within  my  gate. 

I  also  introduced  him  to  every  one  I  could,  and 
spoke  of  him  as  an  eminent  practitioner,  and  did 
every  thing  I  could  to  advance  his  interests,  with- 
out of  course  sacrificing  my  own. 

But  the  doctor,  while  working  like  a  cart-horse 
in  the  dusty  present,  was  living  in  the  future. 
What  if  his  hands  were  blistered  and  grimy,  his 
hat  dusty  and  dented,  his  trousers,  once  immacu- 
lately creased,  worn  to  transparency  at  the  knees, 
his  lungs  clogged  with  dust,  his  throat  hoarse 
with  powdered  plaster,  cellar-damp  and  the 
raucous  hissing  out  of  anathemas  on  various 
things,  he  was  happy,  because  he  was  working 
for  some  one. 

His  preparations  advanced  toward  the  goal  of 
completion,  and  the  doctor  announced  a  vaca- 
tion for  a  week,  after  which  he  would  bring  the 
attractive  young  lady  to  visit  her  new  home  be- 
fore the  wedding-day  arrived.  Upon  this  we 
promptly  asked  him  to  bring  her  to  our  house,  but 
found  that  our  neighbor  Daniel  had  stolen  a 
march  on  us.   We  contented  ourselves  with  find- 


176  FARMING     IT 

ing  out  from  the  doctor  the  exact  day  of  her  visit, 
and  began  to  lay  plans  to  make  her  introduction 
to  her  new  neighbors  memorable. 

So  I  called  a  meeting  of  the  neighborhood  at 
my  house  for  a  certain  evening,  and  to  make  it 
more  interesting  provided  refreshments  which 
included  strong  coffee,  as  the  affair  was  weighty 
and  of  great  importance.  The  two  delightful  old 
ladies  arrived,  escorted  by  their  servant,  who 
delivered  them  into  my  charge  with  a  good  deal 
of  formality,  during  which  I  bowed  over  their 
mitted  hands  until  I  felt  my  backbone  creak  and 
then  gave  them  my  arm  up  the  steps,  while  they 
smiled  and  turned  out  their  toes  gracefully  as  they 
minced  up  the  path. 

The  two  old  gentlemen  arrived  with  somewhat 
rusty  but  perfectly  proper  black  coats  of  a  variety 
of  basket-cloth  popular  in  the  early  seventies, 
double-breasted  and  with  narrow  shoulders,  and 
they  bowed  with  fine  old-fashioned  courtesy  to 
the  ladies,  and  sat  upright  in  the  stiffest-backed 
chairs  they  could  find.  Daniel  rolled  in  with  a 
jolly  joke  which  delighted  the  old  ladies,  with 
whom  he  was  a  prime  favorite. 

After  the  company  had  gathered,  the  nature  of 
the  business  was  disclosed  and  a  great  variety 
of  suggestions  was  offered.  Daniel  suggested  tb  i 
purchase  of  a  small,  handsome  and  safe  hors^ 
and  phaeton ;  the  generosity  of  which  proposal 


AMATEUR    THEATRICALS    177 

filled  us  with  admiration,  while  its  probable  ex- 
pense appalled  us,  and  his  proposal  was  rejected 
with  few  dissenting  voices,  among  which  Dan- 
iel's was  the  loudest. 

The  Professor  opined  that  a  handsome  dinner- 
set  would  always  be  appreciated.  The  neigh- 
bors all  agreed  to  this,  but  as  prevailing  opinion 
appeared  to  be  in  favor  of  doing  something  orig- 
inal, the  proposal  was  voted  down,  with  apolo- 
gies to  the  Professor.  The  two  old  ladies  thought 
an  old-fashioned  sideboard  or  highboy  would  be 
a  good  thing.  We  all  concurred  in  this  with  great 
enthusiasm,  but  as  nobody  present  was  willing 
to  sacrifice  his  antique  furniture,  and  as  the  en- 
tire crowd  were  in  a  state  of  deep  financial  de- 
pression, the  idea  was  abandoned. 

Cut  glass  was  beyond  our  means,  silverware 
out  of  date,  if  not  ditto,  tin  and  wooden  more 
suitable  to  our  station  in  life,  and  so  we  decided 
on  tin,  wood,  leather,  zinc,  and  brass. 

How  to  give  them  ?  was  the  next  question. 
This  caused  great  discussion,  in  which  all  mem- 
bers took  an  active  part. 

One  of  the  old-fashioned  gentlemen,  however, 
made  a  tremendous  hit  with  his  speech.  Draw- 
ing himself  up  to  his  full  height  and  placing  one 
hand  on  his  hip  and  flourishing  his  pince-nez 
with  the  other  he  thus  addressed  us :  — 

"Fellow  citizens, — ah,  friends  and  neighbors, 


178  FARMING    IT 

the  felicitous  —  ah,  nature  of  the  coming  event, 
which  casts,  not  shadows — ah,  but  radiant  arrows 
from  Cupid's  bow,"  (great  enthusiasm  and  ap- 
plause), "is  the  r-r-r-rgmm,  little  touch  of  nature 
that  maketh  the  whole  world  kin  —  ah,  (applause) 
the  hope — ah,  of  posterity — ah,  inherent  in  the 
breast  of  man  —  ah,  (deep  blushes  mantled  the 
cheeks  of  the  old  maiden  ladies)  make  it  incum- 
bent upon  us — ah,  (violent  tugs  at  his  coat-tail  by 
the  other  old  gentleman)  to  celebrate  this  happy  — 
ah,  event  in  a  somewhat  unusual  —  ah,  way.  I 
beg  leave  to  move  that  some  happy  —  ah,  repre- 
sentation, such  as  a  play,  be  written  by  some  — ah, 
talented  member  of  our  body-corporate  —  ah,  and 
be  produced  at  some — ah,  favorable  time,  when 
all  could  take  part."  (Terrific  enthusiasm;  pro- 
longed and  violent  applause.) 

A  play,  that  was  just  what  we  wanted.  We 
would  have  it  a  bucolic  play,  because  we  were  a 
neighborhood  of  farmers,  by  avocation  at  least, 
and  she  was  from  the  city,  and  should  learn  to 
take  us  as  we  were. 

We  almost  forgot  our  refreshments,  so  inter- 
ested were  we  in  planning  details,  appointing 
committees,  assigning  parts  in  advance,  without 
in  the  least  knowing  what  the  play  was  to  be. 
Finally,  after  prodigious  discussion,  and  huge 
consumption  of  fruit-punch,  coffee  and  sand- 
wiches, we  decided  to  purchase  a  quantity  of 


AMATEUR    THEATRICALS    179 

kitchen-ware  of  wood,  iron,  and  tin,  and  I  was 
ordered,  under  terrific  penalties,  to  produce  a 
play  deftly  woven  round  these  homely  articles, 
having  for  its  scene  some  rural  forum  such  as 
the  country  store,  the  post  oflBce,  the  town- 'us  or 
the  school-'us. 

The  evening  came,  the  neighbors  arrived. 
There  was  the  hurried  moving  of  stage  props,  a 
terrific  hammering  behind  the  curtain,  calls  for 
hammers,  nails,  and  laths,  entreaties  to  "get  off 
my  head!"  sarcastic  reminders  to  "kindly  step 
off  my  fingers";  queries  as  to  "where  are  you 
going  with  my  step-ladder  ?"  and  "who  had  the 
rouge  last  ?"  mingled  with  occasional  and  fearful 
crashes  as  hurrying  people  with  stage  furniture 
collided,  and  a  general  alarm  when  the  curtain 
suddenly  blazed  up  from  a  careless  candle. 

In  front  of  the  curtain  chairs  were  being  ar- 
ranged in  convergent  rows.  Rocking-chairs, 
leather-backed  chairs,  lounging  chairs,  dining- 
room  chairs,  kitchen,  old  derelicts  from  the  attic, 
splint-seated  from  the  store  room,  and  every  kind 
and  nature  of  hassock  and  footstool.  People  were 
arriving  and  greeting  one  another  in  shouts,  the 
noise  behind  the  curtain  being  such  as  to  render 
communication  in  the  ordinary  tone  of  voice 
impossible.  Finally,  the  uproar  ceased  and  the 
hoarse  tones  of  the  stage-manager  subdued  to  a 
husky  but  perfectly  audible  whisper  were  heard 


180  FARMING     IT 

to  order  every  one  off  the  stage  but  the  stage 
people,  for  the  curtain  was  "goin'  up  in  about 
three  seconds." 

There  was  a  scurrying  and  giggling,  a  heavy 
fall  and  a  burst  of  half-stifled  laughter,  and  then 
the  curtain  rose  very  jerkily  and  disclosed :  — 

Scene  :  A  Country  Store. 

[Counter,  hams,  rubber-boots,  wooden  pails  hanging  from 
the  ceiling,  advertisements  tacked  to  the  walls,  stenciled 
adv.,  etc.,  steel  traps,  sign, 

W.  I.  Goods  and  Groceries 

Timothy   G.    Seed 

[Within,  Mr.  Seed,  in  linen  duster,  brimless  straw  hat, 
leather  boots  with  trousers  tucked  into  the  legs,  chin- 
whiskers  and  rich  brown  wig,  is  busy  chasing  the  cheese 
back  into  the  cage. 

Mr.  Seed.  —  Dang  this  'ere  pesky  cheese,  's  alius  gittin* 
aout  a'  skally  hootin'  raoun'  rite  afore  customers.  Seems 
so  the  old  scratch  was  in  the  cussid  stuff.  {Thumps  cheese 
with  pork-barrel  stick.)  Thar,  dum  ye,  guess  naow  ye  air 
stunted,  ye '11  lay  quiet  awhile.  Ezry!  Ezry !  whar  is  that 
dumbed  worthless  boy,  Ezry! 

[Enter  Ezra  :  boy,  jumper,  shortish  overalls,  one  suspender 
fastened  with  a  nail,  boots  turned  over  at  the  heel,  cJiewing 
and  swallouring  something. 

Thar  ye  go,  alius  eatin'  suthin'.  Been  at  them  dried  apples 
agen  ?  'Fi  ketch  ye  eatin'  any  more  dried  apples,  I  '11  skin 
ye  alive.  It's  a  wonder  they  don't  swell  up  'n'  bust  ye. 
Hev  ye  sanded  the  sugar,  Ezry  ? 


AMATEUR     THEATRICALS    181 

Ezra.  —  Yessir. 

Seed.  —  Hev  ye  watered  the  milk  ? 

Ezra.  —  Yessir. 

Seed.  —  Hev  ye  counted  over  the  coffee  ? 

Ezra.  —  Yessir. 

Seed.  —  Hev  ye  aired  the  salt  fish  ? 

Ezra.  —  Yessir. 

Seed.  —  Hev  ye  giv  the  butter  a  good  combin'  ? 

Ezra.  —  Yessir. 

Seed.  —  All  rite,  then ;  I  want  ye  to  go  daun  to  Ruta  J. 
Bagas  and  tell  him  we  draw  the  line  on  eggs  that  have  been 
set  on  fer  nineteen  days.  When  eggs  peep  so's  everybody 
can  hear  'em  it  spiles  the  sale,  'n'  we  hev  to  use  'em  to  hum. 
Stop  at  old  Miss  Grandiflora's  'n'  tell  her  we  got  some  o' 
that  cookin'  butter  that 's  a  little  spiled,  but  good  enough 
for  a  church  sociable. 

[Exit  Ezra,  whistling;  Mr.  Seed  goes  to  desk  and  begins 
to  charge  up  items. 

Seed.  —  Pumpkin  J.  Radish,  two  pounds  butter.  That 
butter  's  a  little  spiled,  but  Pump  's  used  snuff  so  long  that 
he  hain't  got  no  taste  'n'  can't  tell  the  difference,  so  Pump 
gits  charged  full  price.  Hardy  P.  Shrubb,  half  peck  o' 
potatoes,  half  pound  o'  cheese.  Lessee,  wuz  it  the  jumpy 
kind,  or  the  deef  'n'  dumb  kind.  Oh,  yes,  I  remember 
Hardy,  he  sez  it  got  away  from  him  on  the  way  hum  'n' 
got  away  into  the  bushes.  I  forgot  to  stunt  it  afore  he  tuk 
it  away. 

[Enter  Temperance  S.  Rhubarb.    Angular  female,  with 
Paisley  shawl,  specs,  mitts  and  beaded  reticule. 

Seed.  —  Howdy,  Miss  Rhubarb :  nice  day.     What  kin 


182  FARMING     IT 

I  dew  for  ye  to-day  ?  Got  some  nice  bombazine  jest  in. 
Right  from  East  Rochester ;  think  ye  'd  like  it. 

Temp.  —  No,  thank  you,  Mr.  Seed,  I  'm  on  a  very  dif- 
ferent arrent  to-day.  {Giggles  girlishly.)  I  want  to  buy  a 
weddin'  present. 

Seed.  —  Ye  don't  say  so.  Ye  beant  goin'  ter  git  married, 
be  ye.  Miss  Temperance  ? 

Temp,  (bridling) .  —  Well,  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  why 
not  if  I  wanted  to. 

Seed  {hurriedly).  — No  reason  't  all,  Miss  Temperance, 
ye  might  hev  hed  all  the  young  fellers  here  if  ye  'd  wanted 
*em. 

Temp.  — Ye  know  I  hed  my  bereavement.  {Wipes  eyes.) 

Seed.  —  Yes.    {Sighs  heavily.) 

Temp.  —  Now  what  ye  got  cheap  in  wooden  goods  ? 

Seed.  — Got  a  nice  choppin'  block  off  that  big  ellum 
tree. 

Temp.  —  Well ;  the  idea  —  choppin'  block !  Guess  he  's 
thinkin'  'baout  suthin'  besides  choppin'  wood. 

Seed.  —  That 's  what  he  '11  be  doin'  for  the  rist  of  his  born 
days.  Sometimes  it's  a  mighty  'scape- valve  for  the  feelin's 
when  company 's  raoun  'n'  ye  don't  take  it  aout  in  cussin'. 

Temp.  —  Well,  I  guess  these  two  won't  ever  feel  that 
way.  They  are  just  tew  little  love-birds.  It's  beautiful  to 
see  them.    {Clasps  hands  ecstatically.) 

Seed.  —  Shaw,  they  '11  fight  sure.  Love-birds  is  the  cross- 
est  critters  I  ever  see.  They  screech  and  fight  like  tarnation 
cats.  I  had  tew  onct.  Set  on  the  roost  with  their  heads 
close  together.  Well,  they  screeched,  'n'  fit,  till  one  killed 
'n'  et  t'other. 

Temp.  —  Well,  this  couple  is  different.  So  lovin'  and 
tnistin' ! 


AMATEUR    THEATRICALS    183 

Seed.  —  What  yer  say  tu  spoons.  Seems  thet's  what 
they  be. 

Temp.  —  Just  the  things.  Two  lovely  wooden  spoons. 
Show  me  the  best  and  cheapest.    (Opens  reticule.) 

Seed  (diving  into  corner,  finds  spoons  with  difficulty ^ 
dusts  tfiem,  blows  on  them,  and  wipes  tliem  on  his  trousers) . 
— There,  ye  kin  hit  an  awful  lick  with  one  of  them.  When 
them  tew  love-birds  gits  inter  a  scrap  it's  a  good  thing  to 
hev  suthin'  handy. 

Temp,  (scornfully).  —  I  would  n't  be  sinnatin'  sich 
things.   Ennyway,  I'll  take  these  two. 

Seed  (sarcastically). — One '11  be  cheaper,  and  them 
love-birds  kin  eat  outer  one,  (aside)  for  a  while. 

Temp.  —  Thanks.  Five  cents.  (Pays,  perks,  and  <fe- 
parts.) 

Seed  (peering  from  unndow,  soliloquizing) .  — Well,  here 
comes  old  Hen  Peck'n'  his  wife,  drivin'.  Well,  Hen  he  was 
a  love-bird  onct.  Don't  look  like  it  naou.  'Member  how 
tarnal  soft  they  wuz ;  et  from  the  same  plate  at  sociables, 
'n'  drinked  from  the  same  glass  at  picnics,  'n'  naou  old  Mis' 
Peck  won't  let  poor  old  Hen  set  to  the  table,  'xcept  when 
they  is  company. 

Hen  Peck  (entering) .  —  Howdy,  Tim. 

Seed.  —  Howdy,  Hen.  Pretty  good  day  for  the  time  of 
the  year.    What  yer  goin'  to  buy  to-day? 

Hen.  —  Nothin'  much.  Want  some  kind  of  a  weddin* 
present.    Suthin'  cheap. 

Seed.  —  Won't  Mis'  Peck  come  in  ? 

Hen.  —  No,  she 's  bad  with  the  rheumatiz. 

Seed.  —  What  kind  of  a  present  do  ye  want  ? 

Hen.  —  Wall,  rat  pizen  er  Paris  green's  the  best  thing 
for  both  on  'em. 


184  FARMING     IT 

Seed. — Shaw,  don't  talk  so,  Hen.  'Member  you'n* 
M'randy  wuz  love-birds  onct.  'Member  haou  ye  used  to 
drink  from  the  same  glass  'n'  eat  from  the  same  — 

Hen.  —  Shet  up,  Tim !  I  swanny,  wuz  I  sech  a  dummed 
fool  ez  that  ?  Look  at  me  naou   Do  I  look  like  a  love-bird  ? 

Seed.  —  Not  much,  Hen.  Wall,  what  kind  of  a  present 
d'  ye  want  ? 

Hen.  —  Suthin'  cheap.    Wooden  ware,  M'randy  said. 

Seed.  —  How  'd  a  rollin'-pin  do  ? 

Hen.  —  Jist  the  thing.  Ye  can  hit  a  almighty  tunk  with 
it.  Sometimes  seems  's  if  I  could  knock  M'randy's  head 
off'n  her.   But  she  alius  gits  it  first. 

Voice  from  vdthout.  —  Henry  Peck,  be  ye  goin  't'  get  that 
present  or  beent  ye?  I  don't  want  to  haf  tu  speak  t'  ye 
twict. 

Hen.  —  Yes,  my  dear,  comin'.  For  the  land  sake,  don't 
be  so  tarnal  slow,  Tim.  Ten  cents;  don't  wrap  it  up. 
Comin',  M'randy,  comin',  my  dear.    (Exit  hurriedly.) 

Seed.  —  Poor  Hen !  M'randy  was  a  likely  critter,  too. 
She  kind  of  took  a  shine  to  me  'fore  Hen  begun  to  set  up 
with  her.  Sometimes,  I  almost  think  she  was  kind  of  dis- 
appinted  in  Hen.  Naou  'f  it  'ad  been  me,  M'randy  'd  — 
Hellow !  There  goes  that  pesky  cheese  agen.  Hi  tha !  shoo ! 
(Jumps  up  and  chases  the  cJieese  back  to  its  cage  and  strikes 
it  with  butt  end  of  butter  knife.)  Well,  I  've  got  to  put  some 
chloride  of  lime  on  that  salt  fish.    (Sprinkles  fish.) 

[Enter  Pansie  J.  Pink  and  August  Sweeting. 

Seed.  —  Well,  Pansie,  you  look  ez  pretty  ez  a  Baldwin 
apple.   Ain't  thet  so,  August? 

August.  —  You  bet,  Tim.  I  'm  goin'  t'  buy  suthin'  for 
a  friend  of  mine  who  is  goin'  to  be  married,  'n'  I  jest  bet 


AMATEUR     THEATRICALS     185 

Pans  *11  git  suthin'  good.  I  got  two  dollars  'n  eighty  cents, 
'n'  I  don't  keer  fer  no  expense  nor  nothin'. 

Pansie  {very  modestly) .  —  How  much  are  bread-boards  ? 

August.  —  Bread-boards  nothin',  Pans;  git  'em  some 
napkin-rings  or  a  pipe,  or  pen-wiper,  er  suthin'  useful. 

Pansie. — I  want  them  to  keep  what  I  give  them,  and 
use  it  too,  and  I  don't  know  anything  more  useful  than  a 
good  bread-board.  I'll  buy  a  bread-board  and  you  can  buy 
whatever  you  want.  How  much  is  this  bread-board,  Mr. 
Seed? 

Seed.  —  Twenty-five  cents,  Pansie,  and  it  '11  wear- 
Sound  'n'  solid,  just  like  you,  Pansie.  Hope  I  '11  hear  about 
your  gettin'  married  soon,  Pansie. 

Pansie  {with  a  \^-carat,  three-fly,  home-made  blush).  — 
Oh,  thank  you,  Mr.  Seed,  I  guess  you  need  n't  fear  that 
of  me.    {Pays  and  exit.) 

Seed.  —  Whot's  the  matter  with  you  young  fellers,  August, 
lettin'  that  gal  escape  ?  Where  's  yer  eyes  ? 

August.  —  Dumpy,  not  my  style.  A  feller  likes  a  girl 
with  a  little  go,  a  little  style.  One  ye  know  that  can  trot 
in  quick  time.  Naou  thet  bread-board  shows  just  what  she 
is.  Fancy  a  girl  with  any  go  to  her  giving  a  bread-board 
for  a  weddin'  present.  Naou,  I  don't  'ntend  to  spare  no 
expense,  but  I  want  suthin'  stylish.  Naou,  a  feller  likes  a 
good  pipe.  A  good  briarwood.  That  one  '11  do.  Twenty 
cents  ?  All  right.  Kinder  high  for  a  briarwood,  but  I  never 
consider  expense  when  I  buy  weddin'  presents.  Naou  the 
picter.  Naou  that's  style,  that's  finish,  thet  there  picter 
means  suthin'.  {Handles  with  tlie  appreciation  of  a  con- 
noisseur tJie  m^st  frightful  print  imaginable.  Buys  print.) 
There,  bread-board  be  hanged  ;  I  like  some  style  to  a  pres- 
ent. When  I  get  ready  to.  settle  down  it  '11  be  with  some  one 


186  FARMING     IT 

with  some  style,  but  a  fellow  must  have  his  little  fling  first, 
and  there  's  nothin'  like  being  up  to  date.  {Goes  out  whis- 
tling "Shoo  Fly,"  stops  and  bows  profoundly  as  Mrs. 
Grandiflora  enters.)  There,  that's  what  I  call  style. 
(Aside.) 

Mrs.  Graridijlora  (in  hat  of  terrific  size,  flamboyant  with 
featliers,  and  ribbons  in  three  different  shades  of  red;  yellow 
parasol,  and  lorgnette  made  of  eye-glasses  lashed  to  tip  of 
bamboo  fishing-rod;  purple  dress,  if  possible).  —  Well,  good 
afternoon,  Mr.  Seed. 

Seed  {coming  from  behind  the  counter,  dusts  chair,  places 
it  with  profound  bow) .  —  Good  afternoon,  Mrs.  Grandi- 
flora. 

Mrs.  G.  {seats  herself,  raises  lorgnette  to  her  eyes). — 
Have  you  heard  of  the  new  engagement? 

Seed.  —  There  beant  another,  be  they  ?  'Cause  'f  there 
be,  I  'm  goin'  to  lay  in  a  new  stock  of  wooden  ware. 

Mrs.  G.  —  No,  no  new  one,  but  such  sweet  things  as  they 
are,  and  so  well  suited  to  each  other.  You  know  Pope  says, 

"Man  is  the  ragged  loafing  pine. 
Woman  the  gentle  jimson  vine, 
Whose  scalping  tendrils  round  him  twine." 

But  he 's  real  smart,  and  she 's  just  like  a  jimson  vine,  just 
clasping  him  every  chance  she  can  get.  Ain't  Pope  just 
too  sweet  for  anything  ?  I  do  enjoy  Pope  and  Bridewell  and 
McAuley.  McAuley  is  just  divine,  and  it  was  so  strange 
that  he  should  become  a  prize-fighter  afterwards.  But,  then, 
literary  people  are  queer  just  like  musicians.  There  was 
Sullivan,  you  know,  the  prize-fighter,  who  wrote  the  most 
beautiful  song  about  some  poor  organ-player  sitting  play- 
ing his  organ  one  night,  and  someone  came  along  and 


HAVE  YOU   READ   "THE  SIMPLE   LIFE"   BY   WAGNER? 


AMATEUR     THEATRICALS     187 

stole  a  whole  load  of  wood.  He  had  just  bought  a  cord  of 
it,  and,  poor  man,  he  lost  it  all  and  he  hunted  but  never 
could  find  it.  But  poor  man,  he  never  lost  hope  and  stuck 
to  it  to  the  last  that  he  would  see  that  cord  again.  I  hope 
he  did,  poor  man.  But  about  this  wedding,  —  I  do  want 
to  buy  something  real  simple.  I  do  like  simple  things. 
There  are  some  people  who  want  showy  clothes  and  who 
love  to  make  a  show,  but  I  say,  give  me  quiet  tastes  and 
literary  ability  and  I  don't  want  nothin'  else.  When  you 
see  flash  people  drivin'  by  in  their  stylish  coops  and  but- 
lers on  the  front  seats,  I  say  to  myself,  "  Volumina  Grandi- 
flora,  don't  you  never  fret  yourself  one  bit;  ain't  it  better 
to  be  able  to  talk  grammary  and  to  be  allitery  than  to 
make  a  show  ?"  No,  say  I,  you  can  have  your  butlers  and 
your  rubber-wheeled  carriages  and  your  tigers,  if  you  want 
'em,  though  I  never  happened  to  see  any  tigers,  although 
I  looked  for  them  time  and  time  again,  and  never  see  any- 
thing more  'n  some  of  them  spotted  damnation  dogs. 
P'raps  them  is  what  they  meant.  Have  you  read  the 
"  Simple  Life"  by  Wagner  ?  You  know  Wagner,  of  course, 
the  man  who  wrote  Mendelssohn's  Wedding  March.  I 
thought  I  would  read  it  and  it  would  give  me  some  idea  of 
what  is  the  latest  thing  to  do  at  weddings.  Well,  about  that 
present, —  a  good  broom,  one  of  those  quiet  shiny  ones 
with  a  red  label.  Send  it  up,  please.  {Rises  and  departs, 
while  Seed,  loith  his  hand  to  his  head,  staggers  to  his  desk 
and  begins  cJmrging  up  various  articles  to  John  L.  Sullivan 
and  Wagner  Dryden.) 

[Enter  Miss  Mulli  Grubbe  and  Old  Lady  Snapdragon. 

Black  shawls  tightly  wrapped  across  their  chests  —  red 
noses  —  black  lace-mitts  with  fingers  gone  —  small  black 
straw  hats  or  bonnets  —  very  erect. 


188  FARMING     IT 

Mr.  Seed.  —  Good  arternoon,  ladies. 

The  ladies  (forbiddingly) .  —  Day,  sir. 

Seed  (affably  but  somewhat  apprehensively) .  —  What  can 
I  show  you  to-day? 

Old  Lady  Snapdragon  (who  is  deaf,  to  Miss  Grubbe) .  — 
What  did  the  old  fool  say? 

Miss  Mulli  Grubbe. —  He  wants  to  know  what  he  can 
show  us. 

Old  Lady  Snapdragon.  —  Tell  him  if  we  want  anything 
we  will  tell  him. 

Seed  (aside) .  —  I  '11  show  'em  the  door  for  two  cents. 

Miss  Grubbe.  —  What 's  that  ? 

Seed.  —  Nothin',  madam,  talking  to  myself. 

Miss  Grubbe.  —  They  dew  say  people  do  that  ez  they 
grow  old. 

Seed  (aside) .  —  She  ought  to  know. 

Miss  Grubbe.  —  What 's  that  ? 

Old  Lady  Snapdragon.  —  What  does  he  say  ? 

Seed  (bellounng).  —  Nothin',  madam. 

Old  Lady  Snapdragon.  —  That 's  whot  he 's  been  doin* 
all  his  life,  talkin'  'n  sayin'  nothin',  but's  the  first  time  I 
ever  knowed  him  t'  acknowledge  it. 

Miss  Gruhbe.  — What's  the  price  of  ironin'  boards? 

Seed.  —  Fifteen  cents  if  you  want  'em  to  lay  people  out 
on,  because  you  can  return  'em.  Fifty  cents  if  you  want 
'em  to  iron  on,  'cause  we  don't  take  'em  back. 

Old  Lady  Snapdragon.  —  What 's  he  say  ? 

Miss  Grubbe. — Fifteen  cents  for  corpses  and  fifty  cents 
for  live  people. 

Seed  (aside) . — If  you  want  'em  for  the  old  lady  and  will 
use  'em,  I  give  ye  one. 

Miss  Grubbe.  —  Give  me  a  new  fifty-cent  one. 


AMATEUR     THEATRICALS     189 

Old  Lady  Snapdragon.  —  Can't  yer  let  us  have  a  corpse 
one  that  has  been  returned  two  or  three  times,  for  twenty 
cents  ?  They  'd  never  know  the  difference. 

Seed  (bellowing) .  —  No,  madam ;  the  last  one  was  re- 
turned from  a  man  who  had  bronical  bronchitis,  and  that 's 
ketchin'  as  thunder. 

(Pay  grumpily  and  exeunt.) 

[Enter  Hungaria  N.  Grass,  her  husband.  Oat  Grass, 
local  Justice  of  the  Peace,  and  Johnny  Jump  Up,  son  of 
Hungaria,  a  little  red-headed  boy. 

Johnny.  —  O  Ma,  want  stick  er  candy.   Can  I  have  it, 

can  I,  Ma  ?  an'  some  juju  paste ;  can  I,  Ma  ?  You  said  I 

could. 

[Pulls  down  barrel  of  brooms^  which  in  turn  brings  down 
tin  boiler,  lamp  and  other  things.  Hungaria  picks  up 
Johnny,  boxes  his  ears  soundly,  and  hands  him  over  to 
Oat  Grass,  who  larrups  him  with  his  cane.  Where- 
upon Hungaria  relents,  pushes  Oat  Grass  into  an  open 
barrel,  where  he  sticks.  She  clasps  Johnny  to  her  bosom 
and  pats  his  Jiead.  Seed  pulls  Oat  Gn\ss>from  the  bar- 
rel with  difficulty  fust  as  Poppy  Grass,  their  daughter, 
enters. 
Poppy  (short  dress,  bead  necklace,  hair  in  two  pig-tails, 

chewing  gum  and  talking  as  she  chews) .  —  Say,  Ma,  I 

want  some  candy,  too.    Johnny  got  some,  can't  I,  Ma  ? 

[General  discussion  between  members  of  tlie  family  before 
the  matter  is  finally  adjusted  by  giving  her  what    she 
wants.    While  the  children  are  quieted,  Hungaria  asks 
tlie  price  of  a  chopping -tr ay .] 
Oat  Grass.  —  Jest  the  thing,  Hungaria,  most  convenient 

things  I  ever  saw.    We  kin  chop  up  mince-meat,  's  neat 's 


190  FARMING     IT 

you  please,  and  then  mix  up  a  mess  of  chicken-feed  in  it, 
and  sometime  mighty  convenient  when  we  can't  find  the 
dust-pan.  Tell  yer,  Timothy,  Hungaria  is  a  master-hand 
to  make  things  go  a  long  distance.  Don't  know  what  we 
ain't  used  that  er  choppin'-tray  for. 

Hungaria  {who  has  vainly  tried  to  stop  him) .    'T  is  no 

such  thing.  Oat  Grass,  and  you  know  it.    They  ain't  a 

neater  housekeeper  round,  than  I  be. 

[Poppy  tries  to  dispossess  Johnny  of  his  stick  of  candy,  and 

the  result  is  a  mixup  and  the  children  are  torn  apart  by 

their  parents,  shaken  and  set  down  hard  on  opposite  sides 

of  the  store,  where  they  make  up  faces  at  their  parents  and 

each  other. 

Hungaria.  —  Be  you  goin'  to  the  weddin',  Mr.  Seed  ? 
We  be.  It's  jest  too  nice  for  anything  to  see  young  people 
get  married.  I  only  hope  they'll  be  as  happy  ez  we  be. 
We've  lived  together  for  seventeen  years  'thout  never  havin' 
a  cross  word  and  if  I  dew  say  it,  nobody  ever  had  tew  such 
angel  children  as  ours. 

[Terrific  crash  heard  as  Poppy  pushes  Johnny's  chair  back- 
ward and  general  mixup  results.  After  this  is  quelled, 
chopping  tray  is  bought,  paid  for,  and  parents  depart, 
much  to  Timothy's  relief. 

Timothy  {soliloquizing). — Well,  if  that's  their  idea 
of  happiness,  believe  I'd  rather  be  an  old  bach. 

Curtain. 

The  play  was  very  successful,  the  parts  being 
acted  in  a  perfectly  killing  manner. 

The  older  of  the  two  old  gentlemen  took  the 
part  of  Seed,  and  a  professional  could  not  have 
surpassed  him.    One  of  the  old  ladies  was  Tern- 


AMATEUR     THEATRICALS    191 

perance  Rhubarb,  and  her  smiles,  smirks,  gig- 
gles, Paisley  shawl,  and  tiny  jointed-parasol, 
nearly  killed  the  audience,  as  did  the  stunning 
get-up  of  Daniel's  wife  as  Mrs.  Grandiflora. 

The  Professor's  wife  as  old  Lady  Snapdragon, 
and  the  new  neighbor's  wife  as  Miss  Mulli 
Grubbe,  caused  us  to  hold  our  sides,  while  Dan- 
iel, the  Professor,  and  the  other  old  gentlemen, 
sitting  on  cracker-barrels  and  discussing  rural 
affairs,  kept  the  actors  in  giggles  all  the  even- 
ing. 

After  the  play  Daniel  and  his  wife,  according 
to  agreement,  secured  the  doctor  and  the  young 
lady,  who  were  their  guests  for  the  evening,  bade 
us  good-night  and  departed  homewards,  amid 
our  loud  protests  and  entreaties  to  remain.  Then 
the  surprise  of  the  evening  was  worked.  From 
the  attic,  days  before,  I  had  resurrected  a  long- 
disused  but  able-bodied  tuba,  had  oiled  its  rusty 
valves  and  had  practised  hoarse  harmony  until 
my  lips  were  swollen  to  sponges.  With  Dick  on  an 
astonishingly  shrill  E-flat  clarinet,  one  of  the  old 
gentlemen  on  a  fife,  the  new  neighbor  on  a  trom- 
bone, on  which,  by  the  way,  he  was  a  one-time 
expert,  the  Professor  on  a  bass-drum,  my  daugh- 
ter on  the  snare,  and  the  other  old  gentleman  as 
drum-major,  we  at  once  headed  a  procession  down 
the  street,  followed  by  all  the  guests  bearing  their 
purchases.    We  countermarched,   and,   playing 


192  FARMING     IT 

the  Wedding  March  from  Lohengrin,  fortissimo 
and  at  double  time,  marched  into  Daniel's  house 
and  down  the  broad  hall,  where,  to  the  great  con- 
fusion and  amazement  of  the  doctor  and  the 
young  lady,  we  presented  the  entire  lot  of  ware, 
in  sections,  and  with  oratory,  to  the  young  cou- 
ple. They  recovered  promptly  from  their  em- 
barrassment, and  it  was  a  late  hour  when  we  left 
Daniel's  weary  with  well-doing  and  sated  with 
good  cheer. 

When  an  entire  neighborhood  winds  up  an 
evening  with  old  fashioned  square  and  contra- 
dances,  with  pigeon-wings,  Kensington  balances 
and  waist-swings;  when  a  gentleman  of  three 
hundred  pounds'  weight  goes  down  the  centre 
with  a  maiden  lady  of  seventy-eight,  like  a  lithe 
youth  of  eighteen  with  a  young  matron  of  twenty- 
eight,  and  when  two  aged  but  courtly  bachelors 
give  an  exhibition  of  ante-bellum  dancing  that 
would  astonish  a  modern  Papanti,  one  can  read- 
ily conclude  that  performers  and  spectators  are 
keyed  to  the  highest  pitch  of  enjoyment. 

Indeed,  the  play  and  the  dance  were  so  enjoy- 
able that  the  evening  was  but  a  precursor  of  many 
other  evenings  of  similar  enjoyment ;  and  before 
the  week  was  past  a  meeting  was  held  at  the  old 
gentleman's  house  and  an  association  formed 
known  as  the  "Masque  Club,"  in  which  plays 
are  recited  periodically,  with  the  book  and  with 


II     1 


DANCING    THAT   WOULD   ASTONISH   A  MODERN   PAPANTI 


AMATEUR     THEATRICALS    193 

no  further  preparation  than  one  reading;  and 
the  talent  that  had  lain  dormant  for  many  years 
in  that  neighborhood  has  been  awakened  to  life, 
and  wields  a  vast  influence  in  the  welfare  and  en- 
joyment of  the  local  populace. 


CHAPTER  XX 

PARTING    WITH    POLLY 

HAVE  sold  Polly,  Polly,  my  only  and 
favorite  saddle-mare ;  Polly,  my  quick- 
stepping,  nervy,  nervous-driving  mare ; 
Polly,  who  would  take  the  bit  between 
her  teeth  and  pull  double  the  moment  my  leg 
crossed  the  saddle,  and  yet  would  trot  as  gently 
and  quietly  as  an  ambling  palfrey  with  my  small 
daughter  astride ;  Polly,  who  would  occasionally 
come  home  with  fence-posts  or  the  foundations 
of  buildings  hitched  to  her  neck,  and  who  on 
one  occasion  dove  bodily  through  the  barn-door 
when  in  one  of  her  hasty  returns  she  found  the 
portal  closed ;  Polly,  who  ran  three  miles  with  me 
one  day  when  I  lost  my  temper  and  struck  her 
with  the  whip.  I  have  sold  her,  and  I  feel  like  a 
penurious  old  malefactor. 

It  was  Daniel  who  got  me  into  the  scrape. 
Daniel  has  a  theory,  which  he  expounds  to  every 
one,  that  a  farmer  ought  to  sell  his  products 
when  there  is  a  market  for  them  and  when  they 
are  ripe.  "For  instance,"  says  Daniel,  "it's  a 
mighty  dangerous  thing  to  hold  staple,  but  per- 


PARTING     WITH     POLLY    195 

ishable  articles  for  a  rise  in  price.  Take  apples 
and  potatoes.  Why,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  the 
farmer  who  holds  his  apples  and  potatoes  over 
the  cold  months  for  a  high  price,  and  gets  $2.70 
for  apples  as  against  $1.80  per  bbl.,  or  one  dollar 
for  potatoes  as  against  seventy  cents  per  bushel, 
£nds,  when  he  has  picked  out  and  thrown  away 
the  rotten  and  punky  ones  that  he  has  n't  a  quar- 
ter part  left. 

"It 's  so  in  live-stock.  Never  keep  a  cow  a  day 
beyond  her  prime  even  if  she  has  n't  fallen  off  a 
bit,  but  is  milking  full.  Never  keep  a  hen  the  sec- 
ond season  if  you  wish  for  eggs.  And  above  all 
never  keep  a  horse  beyond  the  age  of  twelve,  or 
perhaps  it  would  be  better  never  to  keep  a  horse 
more  than  three  or  four  years,  whatever  the  age." 

"But,  Daniel,"  I  said,  "it  takes  a  year  or  two 
to  get  thoroughly  accustomed  to  a  horse,  and  to 
get  the  horse  thoroughly  accustomed  to  you.  And 
after  you  have  had  a  horse  three  or  four  years,  it 
is  at  its  best  as  far  as  you  are  concerned,  and  if 
it  is  a  good  horse  you  just  feel  as  if  you  could  n't 
drive  any  other  horse." 

"Just  the  point,  boy,  just  the  point,"  replied 
Daniel,  removing  his  cigar  and  flicking  a  long 
cone  of  ash  from  its  tip  with  his  little  finger. 
"When  a  man  gets  feeling  that  he  can't  drive 
any  other  horse,  it  is  about  time  for  him  to  try." 

"Well,"  I  replied,  "it  seems  to  me  that  there 


196  FARMING     IT 

ought  to  be  room  for  some  little  sentiment  in  the 
matter." 

"Sentiment!"  sniffed  that  hard,  cynical,  bitter 
man  of  the  world ;  "  the  longer  I  live  the  less  I  be- 
lieve in  sentiment  where  business  is  concerned. 
When  a  man  is  so  beset  with  sentiment  that  he 
can't  sell  a  horse  or  cow  or  dog  or  hen  without 
feeling  that  he  has  outraged  affection  and  senti- 
ment, he  had  better  retire  from  business  and  keep 
a  hospital  for  broken-down  pets." 

Now,  even  while  this  stony-hearted  neighbor 
was  giving  expression  to  such  dreadful  beliefs,  I 
sat  looking  across  the  street  towards  his  spa- 
cious and  sunny  yard.  By  the  side  of  the  stable 
dozed  an  old  white  horse,  so  aged  that  no  true 
veterinarian  could  guess  within  a  decade  of  its 
age.  A  horse  that  was  a  veritable  heirloom  in  the 
family,  and  which  I  vaguely  remembered  forty 
years  ago  to  have  been  a  blue  roan.  Daniel  him- 
self had  learned,  as  a  very  small  boy  in  round- 
abouts, to  ride  and  drive  him.  Daniel's  father, 
long  dead,  may  have  done  the  same.  Daniel's 
two  boys  fifteen  years  ago  discarded  him  as  too 
slow  for  their  infant  ideas,  since  which  time  he 
had  been  an  honorable  pensioner  on  Daniel,  and 
a  very  expensive  one,  too ;  for  every  time  he  did 
not  eat  his  porridge,  a  veterinarian  from  a  neigh- 
boring city  was  sent  for  and  ordered  to  spare  no 
expense  in  making  Old  Tom  comfortable. 


PARTING    WITH     POLLY    197 

A  hideously  distended,  half-blind,  rheumatic 
and  stiff-legged  spaniel,  with  the  hair  completely 
gone  from  its  once  feathery  tail,  lay  asthmatically 
wheezing  on  the  steps ;  while  a  really  prehistoric 
English  bull-dog,  so  old  and  fat  that  he  was  a 
marvel  to  look  at,  lay  at  the  barn  door;  both  of 
which  animals  contributed  to  the  support  of  the 
veterinarian. 

And  when  I  reflected  that  in  his  own  stable 
were  two  cows,  neither  of  which  had  given  milk 
or  had  a  calf  for  over  a  dozen  years,  and  were 
worthy  contemporaries  of  Old  Tom  and  the 
canine  Methuselahs,  I  mentioned  these  facts  to 
Daniel,  expecting  to  crush  him  to  the  earth, 
like  Truth,  with  the  weight  of  my  facts,  but  not 
expecting  him,  like  Truth,  to  rise  again. 

But  Daniel,  like  a  sturdy  old  patriarch,  never 
blinked  an  eye.  "Just  the  point,  boy,  just  the 
point.  I  suppose  those  infernal  old  torments 
have  cost  me  half  of  what  my  place  is  worth.  But 
what  can  a  man  do  ?  They  are  members  of  my 
family,  human  beings,  sir !  But  don't  ever  be  as 
big  a  fool  as  I  have  been." 

Now  Daniel,  fond  as  he  is  of  a  horse  or  cow 
trade,  would  n't  have  sold  or  traded  any  one  of 
those  old  pensioners  to  have  saved  his  own  life. 
But  his  advice  was  sound,  and  the  more  I  thought 
of  it,  the  sounder  it  appeared.  I  had  bought 
Polly  five  years  before,  when  she  was  broken  for 


198  FARMING     IT 

double  harness  only,  and  I  had  with  great  pains 
made  her  the  best  driving  horse  I  ever  owned. 

As  a  saddler  she  had  a  quick  sharp  trot  that 
one  could  sit  as  easily,  almost,  as  a  single-foot. 
This  she  could  keep  up  mile  after  mile,  and  tire 
out  any  of  the  trained  saddlers  in  town. 

She  had  faults.  She  was  somewhat  hard- 
bitted,  very  sensitive  to  ill-treatment,  afraid  of 
nothing  but  firearms  and  the  whip,  and  would 
not  stand  with  anything  but  a  neck-hitch,  and 
occasionally,  as  I  have  said,  brought  home  a 
stone  post,  or  a  fence-rail,  or  part  of  a  barn,  when 
the  neck-hitch  was  stronger  than  the  particular 
real  estate  to  which  she  was  attached. 

And  so  I  sold  Polly.  Sold  her  for  twice  what  I 
had  given  for  her  five  years  before.  Sold  her 
without  any  warranty  and  after  full  explanations 
of  her  failings.  Sold  her  and  took  my  blood- 
money  and  went  home. 

It  took  me  a  full  hour  to  break  the  news  to  my 
wife.  It  took  her  a  much  less  time  to  give  me  her 
opinion  of  the  transaction.  I  represented  the 
facts  with  judicial  calmness,  and  cited  Daniel  as 
authority  for  my  position.  I  am  glad  Daniel  did 
not  hear  what  she  said  about  him.  Its  brevity 
was  no  measure  of  its  completeness. 

My  daughter  began  to  cry,  and  my  son  left  the 
table  in  a  huff  and  banged  the  door.  There  are 
few  sounds  more  disquieting  to  one's  nerves  than 


PARTING     WITH    POLLY    199 

the  more  or  less  justifiable  banging  of  a  door 
when  one  has  done  wrong  and  knows  it. 

Then  I  tried  unblushing  bribery.  Neither  my 
wife  nor  my  daughter  would  have  any  of  it. 

Then  I  went  dowTi  town  and  sought  the  pur- 
chaser. He  had  left  towTi.  I  sat  down  and  wrote 
him,  explaining  the  circumstances.  It  was  a 
dreary  two  days  at  home  before  I  got  his  letter. 
Then  it  was  drearier,  for  the  letter  explained  that 
he  had  bought  the  mare  to  mate  up  a  pair  for  a 
Boston  man,  and  had  delivered  her  the  day  before. 
He  very  kindly  sent  me  the  address,  and  I  lost  no 
time  in  writing  the  Boston  man. 

His  reply  I  received  after  a  few  days.  He  did 
not  care  to  sell,  as  he  had  the  best  pair  of  driving 
horses  in  Boston.  If  I  cared  to  call  some  day  he 
would  be  pleased  to  show  me  what  they  could 
do,  and  he  remained,  "Very  truly,"  etc. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  got  myself  into  a 
very  serious  scrape  indeed,  especially  as  the 
clouds  hung  very  thick  over  my  homestead. 

With  a  part  of  the  price  of  my  treason  I  bought 
a  new  rubber  trimmed  driving  harness,  with 
which  I  decorated  Lady  M.  And  I  also  had  the 
Concord  painted  and  varnished. 

My  wife  had  long  urged  the  purchase  of  a  new 
harness,  and  I  thought  the  double  outlay  might 
soften  her  just  resentment,  but  it  had  absolutely 
the  opposite  eJGfect.     She  refused  to  ride  behind 


200  FARMING     IT 

Lady  M.,  although  that  animal  was  a  very  fair 
roadster  and  handsome. 

I  never  drove  Lady  M.  but  I  missed  Polly's 
quick  sharp  trot,  her  pull  on  the  lines,  the  smooth 
play  of  her  shoulders,  the  alert  pricked  ears,  and 
the  regular  allegro  of  her  light  hoofs. 

A  few  weeks  after  this  I  read  of  an  accident 
in  a  Boston  suburb,  where  a  pair  of  sorrel  horses 
belonging  to  a  Mr.  Lee  became  frightened  at 
a  steam-roller  and  ran  away,  overturning  the 
carriage  and  severely  injuring  their  driver.  The 
account  gave  the  name  of  the  owner  and  driver, 
and  sure  enough  it  was  the  Boston  man  who  had 
bought  Polly.  I  wrote  him  reminding  him  of  my 
offer,  and  received  a  note  from  his  secretary  in- 
forming me  that  both  horses  had  been  sent  to  a 
sale  stable  and  I  could  communicate  with  the 
proprietor. 

The  next  day  I  went  to  Boston,  but  was  again 
too  late.  Both  horses  had  been  sold  to  a  stranger 
who  paid  cash  and  did  not  give  his  name. 

Then  I  gave  up  the  chase  and  resolved  to  think 
no  more  of  Polly,  but  to  do  my  best  to  reestab- 
lish my  reputation  in  my  homestead. 


^ 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE   NEIGHBORHOOD   NUISANCE 

HE  neighborhood  to  which  I  had  moved 
was  regarded  by  those  long  resident 
there  as  one  of  the  finest  and  most 
exclusive  in  the  town.  The  houses 
were  large  and  well-kept,  the  lawns  green  and 
trim,  and  the  grounds  spacious.  It  was  pecul- 
iar in  having  a  number  of  very  lofty  and  fine 
pine  trees  growing  amid  a  profusion  of  elms 
and  oaks.  This  distinction  added  much  to  the 
pride  and  exclusiveness  of  the  residents,  and  in 
fact  set  them  apart  from  other  men.  In  short, 
the  neighborhood  fairly  exhaled  pride  and  satis- 
faction, and  not  without  reason ;  and  when  we 
entered  its  charmed  and  sacred  precincts  we  felt 
that  we  were  personoe  non  gratce. 

Such  things  do  not  bother  me  very  much,  but 
they  affect  my  wife's  peace  of  mind  exceedingly, 
who,  poor  woman,  has  found  in  me  a  very  serious 
handicap  to  her  social  aspirations.  It  is  diflBcult 
for  conservative  and  semi-bucolic  village  society 
to  clasp  to  its  bosom  with  any  open  show  of  affec- 
tion one  who  views  village  neighbors  and  village 
life  with  amusement. 


202  FARMING     IT 

Indeed,  in  the  Greek  Quarter  of  the  town  in 
which  I  had  spent  five  happy  and  amusing  years, 
I  was  viewed  with  the  utmost  suspicion  and  my 
wife  pitied,  because  I  had  committed  the  entire 
neighborhood  to  print,  and  had  made  them  sever- 
ally, and,  according  to  the  sale  of  the  book,  more 
or  less,  immortal.  And  when  we  moved  from  that 
delightful  neighborhood  we  realized  that  our  de- 
parture did  not  affect  the  price  of  real  estate  to 
any  marked  degree. 

In  the  next  neighborhood  where  we  spent  a 
year,  we  were  not  over-popular,  because  we  had 
long  outgrown  the  cabinet-organ  and  plush- 
album  stage,  and  did  not  regard  the  cuspidore 
as  a  household  necessity ;  nor  did  I  aspire  to  oc- 
cupy any  of  the  chairs  in  the  many  lodges  and 
secret  orders  with  which  the  face  of  our  beloved 
village  was  thickly  speckled. 

And  so,  when  I  moved  to  the  farm,  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  view  men  and  things  with  a  more 
serious  eye,  and  in  short,  to  be  good  and  live 
happily  ever  afterwards. 

It  was  hard,  however,  to  break  a  habit  of  years. 
When  one  has  spent  the  greater  part  of  one's  life 
in  seeing  the  amusing  side  of  men  and  things, 
it  is  hard,  desperately  hard,  to  close  one's  eyes 
and  thoughts  to  the  humorous  sights  and  ideas 
that  association  with  one's  neighbors  brings. 

And  the  sight  of  some  of  my  dignified  neigh- 


NEIGHBORHOOD   NUISANCE   203 

bors  pokering  their  unbending  way  townwards, 
brought  forcibly  to  my  mind  the  necessity  of  in 
some  way  ingratiating  myself  with  them  if  I  was 
to  be  a  valued  member  of  the  colony  and  in  good 
standing.  With  Daniel  the  way  was  open.  One 
view  of  Daniel's  three  hundred  pounds  of  good 
nature  was  enough  to  assure  any  man  of  a  wel- 
come, provided  he  desired  and  deserved  it. 

But  the  Professors  and  the  wealthy  magnate, 
the  retired  New  Yorker,  the  two  old  ladies  of  a 
by-gone  generation,  who  still  wore  lace  mitts 
and  side-curls  and  rather  voluminous  black  silk 
skirts,  and  who  occasionally  screened  their  fine 
old  faces  with  small  silk  parasols  with  jointed 
handles,  and  the  two  old  gentlemen  who  took 
pains  to  inform  me  that  they  used  to  trade  with  my 
grandfather,  and  what  a  fine  courteous  old  gentle- 
man he  was,  and  how  things  had  changed  since 
his  time,  — they  were  more  difficult.  And  when 
I  reflected  that  the  last  owner  of  the  farm  was  a 
treasurer  of  the  Academy,  and  a  trustee  thereof, 
for  many  many  years  superintendent  of  a  Sunday 
School,  and  a  man  of  weight  (not  physical,  how- 
ever, for  he  was  of  inconsiderable  size)  and  in- 
fluence in  the  community,  I  realized  that  compar- 
isons would  be,  and  in  all  probability  had  been, 
drawn,  — comparisons  which,  like  comparisons  in 
general,  were  odious. 

It  was  really  quite  a  serious  question.  Whether 


204  FARMING     IT 

to  go  on  as  I  had  been  doing,  and  look  upon  my 
small  corner  of  the  world  with  a  humorous  dis- 
regard, and  attend  strictly  to  my  own  affairs,  the 
duties  of  my  profession  from  nine  to  five,  and  the 
cultivation  of  my  soil  from  five  to  dark,  with  the 
interval  of  the  dinner,  or  to  fairly  lay  myself  out 
to  the  entertainment  of  the  neighborhood. 

I  really  wished  to  be  liked  by  my  new  neigh- 
bors because  I  wanted  to  live  in  the  neighbor- 
hood and  make  myself  one  of  thein.  I  wanted 
to  be  able  to  walk  in  upon  them  without  formal- 
ity, to  have  them  drop  in  socially  to  a  pipe  or  to 
lunch ;  to  discuss  matters  of  common  interest,  — 
the  growth  of  the  crops,  the  relative  butter  quali- 
ties of  the  Jerseys,  the  Ayrshires,  the  Guernseys, 
and  the  Belted  Dutch;  the  comparative  egg- 
productiveness  of  the  Minorcas,  the  Buff  Wyan- 
dottes,  and  the  Orpingtons;  whether  Aldrich 
was  a  real  poet  or  a  graceful  dilettante;  how 
many  rounds  it  took  Jeffries  to  put  Corbett  down 
and  out;  who  was  the  first  American  educator. 
Old  Man  Anson  or  Doctor  Eliot,  and  other 
matters  of  bucolic  interest. 

The  best  method  of  attaining  this  desired  end 
was  the  thing  that  occupied  me  day  and  night. 
We  could  not  invite  them  to  our  house  until  they 
had  called,  and  we  were  not  the  people  to  slight 
or  neglect  our  old  friends  for  the  purpose  of  ob- 
taining favor  with  new  ones. 


NEIGHBORHOOD   NUISANCE   205 

I  tried  various  expedients.  I  purposely  let  out 
my  hens  one  day  in  May,  and  true  to  the  fiendish 
nature  of  these  unaccountable  bipeds,  they  in- 
stantly departed  to  a  neighbor's  garden  and  ex- 
cavated huge  holes  therein.  This  was  my  cue  to 
rush  in  with  a  whip,  drive  them  back  to  my 
own  premises,  and  then  with  my  hired  man  to 
work  a  couple  of  hours  in  putting  the  garden  into 
very  much  better  condition  than  it  ever  was  in 
before,  to  the  great  approval  of  the  neighbor, 
who  might  otherwise  have  remained  in  a  state 
of  dignified  conservatism  forever. 

Another  neighbor's  cow  got  loose,  and  in  one 
night  ate  about  half  of  my  young  sweet  com, 
where  the  young  plants  were  six  inches  high.  I 
carefully  piloted  the  animal  home  and  assured 
the  apologetic  owner  that  the  damage  was  not 
worth  considering,  that  my  horse  or  cow  was 
liable  to  get  loose  any  day  and  do  him  more  dam- 
age, and  that  between  neighbors  the  damage  was 
of  no  importance  whatsoever. 

And  so  in  a  comparatively  short  time  the  idea 
got  abroad  that  I  was  not  really  half  as  bad  as  I 
looked,  and  that  I  might  in  time  be  really  a 
creditable  sort  of  an  acquaintance. 

But  it  was  the  purchase  of  the  wheelbarrow 
that  really  broke  down  the  barriers  of  distmst 
and  suspicion.  When  I  came  there,  like  all  new 
agriculturists  I  bought  a  large  number  of  minor 


206  FARMING    IT 

farming  utensils,  such  as  spades,  shovels,  hoes, 
a  lawn-mower  with  a  hood,  forks,  a  lawn-roller, 
a  scythe,  bush-hook  and  snaths,  double-handed 
saw,  hammer,  axes,  hatchets,  and  a  pigeon-holed 
box  of  assorted  nails,  and  last  and  most  impor- 
tant of  all,  a  fine,  new,  five-dollar-and-fifty-cent 
wheelbarrow. 

To  a  neighborhood  the  members  of  which  had 
for  the  most  part  inherited  their  tools  from  long- 
deceased  ancestors,  an  opportunity  to  borrow 
new  and  modern  farm  implements  is  a  rare  op- 
portunity, indeed,  and  the  ice-bound  fetters  of 
reserve  began  to  warm  up  a  little  and  thaw  to 
quite  an  appreciable  extent. 

In  such  a  neighborhood  a  bright,  new,  sharp 
hoe  is  a  mighty  power  to  make  and  keep  a  friend- 
ship ;  a  loanable  lawn-mower  will  impose  more 
respect  than  the  possession  of  money;  a  box  of 
assorted  nails  will  do  much  to  atone  for  the  er- 
rors of  a  misspent  life;  a  roller  for  lawns  and 
gravel-walks  wields  an  immense  influence  for 
trust  and  affection. 

But  it  is  a  wheelbarrow  that  inspires  love  and 
good-fellowship.  It  is  a  wheelbarrow  that  levels 
all  ranks,  buries  all  hatchets,  destroys  all  enmi- 
ties, absolves  one  from  all  sins  of  commission  and 
omission  past,  present  and  future,  makes  one  a 
man  and  a  brother,  a  comrade,  a  friend,  and 
a  trusted  neighbor. 


NEIGHBORHOOD   NUISANCE    207 

Within  a  month  after  the  purchase  of  that 
wheelbarrow  I  was  one  of  the  most  popular  men 
in  the  community,  free  to  borrow  anything,  from 
money  to  elderberry  wine,  of  which  the  neigh- 
borhood had  endless  store.  To  me,  to  my  wife, 
to  my  children,  to  my  man-serv'ant  whom  I  oc- 
casionally hired  for  a  few  hours,  to  my  maid- 
servant of  a  more  permanent  nature,  to  my 
cattle  and  the  stranger  within  my  gate,  that 
wheelbarrow  was  the  most  profitable  investment 
I  ever  made. 

Did  I  send  a  pitcher  of  cream  to  a  neighbor, 
it  was  followed  in  a  day  or  two  by  a  sort  of  cross- 
counter  in  the  shape  of  a  box  of  fresh  strawber- 
ries. Did  I  send  a  setting  of  eggs  from  my  choicest 
fowl  to  another  neighbor,  he  promptly  retaliated 
with  a  bunch  of  delicious  radishes  or  a  couple  of 
heads  of  lettuce,  and  honors  were  even. 

But  I  had  things  all  my  way  with  the  wheel- 
barrow, for  I  was  the  only  one  on  the  street  who 
owned  one,  and  so,  like  the  small  boy  who  owns 
the  ball,  I  was  the  pitcher  on  the  nine  until  a 
new  boy  came  along  with  a  better  ball.  By  these 
simple  and  effective  means  did  I  remove  from 
my  neighbors'  minds  all  suspicions  engendered 
by  my  past  life  in  other  quarters  of  the  town. 

Yet  the  one  great  exploit  that  put  me  into  a 
very  warm  place  in  the  hearts  of  my  neighbors, 
was  the  slaughter  of  the  neighborhood  dragon. 


208  FARMING    IT 

the  thrashing  of  the  long-time  bully  of  the  little 
community,  the  clipping  of  the  wings  of  the  vil- 
lage condor  or  bucolic  harpy,  that  for  years  had 
defied  public  opinion  and  outraged  neighborly 
good  feeling,  and  whose  name  was  used  to  ter- 
rify refractory  children  into  obedience. 

I  was  warned  of  this  dragon  when  I  bought  the 
farm.  I  was  told  that  he  had  made  trouble  for  all 
his  neighbors,  was  at  his  worst  in  litigation, 
would  provoke  a  saint  to  retaliation  and  then 
prosecute  him  for  it,  and  keep  him  on  the  gridiron 
of  suspense,  attending  court  after  court  until  he 
wore  him  out;  that,  if  he  wanted  anything,  he 
always  got  it,  and  that,  if  he  once  got  down  on  a 
man,  he  was  his  enemy  for  life ;  that  he  was  down 
on  me, — why,  I  did  not  know. 

These  warnings  however  had  no  great  weight 
with  me.  Indeed,  they  did  not  trouble  me  at  all. 
I  had  never  had  any  trouble  with  the  dragon  and 
saw  no  reason  why  I  should  have. 

I  had  come  to  the  neighborhood  with  the  hon- 
est intention  of  being  friendly  and  accommodat- 
ing toward  all  my  neighbors.  I  was  genuinely 
interested  in  the  community.  I  expected  to  con- 
tribute according  to  my  means  to  any  subscrip- 
tion for  neighborly  interests;  to  subscribe  my 
name  to  any  petition  addressed  to  the  author- 
ities for  the  betterment  of  the  local  roads  and 
lawns,  trees  and  sidewalks. 


NEIGHBORHOOD   NUISANCE   209 

At  the  first  sign  of  foreign  invasion  I  would, 
and  fully  intended  to,  reach  down  from  the  wall 
over  the  fireplace  the  old  musket  and  the  powder 
horn  that  my  great-grandfather  might  have 
shouldered  in  the  Revolution,  had  he  been  patri- 
otic enough  to  attend  that  little  festivity,  and 
sally  forth  as  did  our  sires  at  old  Thermopylae. 

Did  the  boys  from  other  and  alien  neighbor- 
hoods invade  with  snowballs,  green  apples,  or 
brickbats,  I  would  send  my  first-born  to  do  bat- 
tle, urging  him  not  to  come  back  but  upon  his 
shield.  Did  the  young  ladies  of  our  neighbor- 
hood vie  with  the  Court-Streeters,  the  Front- 
Streeters,  or  with  similar  young  ladies  from  other 
quarters  of  the  town,  I  would  cheer  hoarsely  for 
our  side  and  contribute  lemonade,  pickled  limes, 
slate  pencils,  and  other  delicacies  peculiar  to 
very  young  ladies. 

Did  the  Decoration  Day  parade  propose  any 
other  route  of  parade  than  through  our  street,  I 
would  fight  their  modest  appropriation  until  they 
acquiesced  in  the  observance  of  our  time-honored 
rights.  Did  the  street  commissioner  run  his  snow- 
plough  over  Elliott,  Grove,  Linden,  or  Court 
Street  before  our  street,  I  would  have  some- 
thing to  say  in  relation  to  that  anxious,  unhappy, 
and  much-badgered  gentleman's  reelection. 

In  short,  I  had  come  to  Pine  Street  prepared 
to  cast  my  lot  with  the  Pine-streeters,  to  espouse 


210  FARMING    IT 

their  quarrels,  to  share  their  joys.  In  time  of  war 
to  "cry  'Havoc!'  and  let  loose  the  dogs  of  war," 
or  to  cry  anything  else  that  might  be  more  in- 
telligible to  the  modem  dogs  of  war,  or  appro- 
priate to  the  circumstances.  In  times  of  peace, 
to  raise  white-winged  pigeons  as  emblematic  of 
the  idealistic  conditions.  And  with  such  peace- 
ful intentions  I  most  certainly  did  not  expect 
trouble  with  any  one. 

The  Dragon's  name  was  Cyrus  Pettigrew. 
Not  a  handsome  name,  and  Cyrus  looked  his 
name  if  any  one  ever  did.  He  was  old  and  gnarled 
and  dried  and  wrinkled  and  rusty.  He  was  mean 
and  skimpy  and  avaricious  and  penurious  and 
grasping.  He  was  harsh  and  sour  and  contrary 
and  selfish  and  grumpy. 

But  I  had  no  fear  of  trouble.  I  usually  had  no 
trouble  with  any  one.  It  may  have  been  in  a 
measure  due  to  my  profession,  for  few  men  care 
to  pick  a  quarrel  with  a  lawyer.  It  may  have  been 
in  a  still  greater  measure  due  to  my  avocation, 
for  the  men  who  will  risk  being  embalmed  in  a 
newspaper  or  magazine  roast  are  still  more  rarely 
found.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  cause  the 
fact  was  undisputed.  I  was  a  peaceable  man  and 
lived  a  peaceful  life. 

But  the  man  never  lived  who  could  reside  next 
to  old  Pettigrew  and  not  have  trouble  with  him. 
Poor  old  Cyrus, — he  is  dead  now,  and,  "De 


NEIGHBORHOOD   NUISANCE   211 

mortuis  nil  nisi  bonum"  notwithstanding,  I  have 
never  found  man,  woman,  or  child  that  would 
own  to  a  passing  regret  at  Cyrus's  departure. 

My  first  meeting  with  Cyrus  as  a  neighbor  was 
trying.  I  wanted  a  new  fence  between  his  place 
and  mine,  and  I  sought  him  one  day  near  the  old 
boundary  fence.  Cyrus  met  my  proposition  very 
coldly.  He  did  n't  want  a  fence.  The  fence  had 
been  good  enough  for  him  and  my  predecessor 
for  a  good  many  years.  And  he  didn't  think 
much  of  an  interloper  who  wanted  to  change 
everything  over. 

In  vain  I  argued  the  necessity  of  an  up-to- 
date  wire  fence.  Cyrus  would  have  none  of  it. 
I  finally  offered  to  pay  the  entire  expense.  To 
this  Cyrus,  who  had  a  sharp  nose  for  a  bargain 
and  a  pair  of  exceedingly  sharp  and  far-sighted 
eyes  for  his  own  interest,  agreed,  although  very 
grumpily. 

Having  obtained  his  consent  I  lost  no  time  in 
buying  posts  and  wire-fencing,  and  in  hiring  a 
carpenter,  sappers,  and  miners,  and  starting  the 
work.  At  this  time  I  was  called  out  of  town  for 
a  few  days,  and  on  my  return  found  to  my  great 
pleasure  that  my  new^  fence  had  been  erected  and 
the  carpenter  was  just  leaving.  I  went  out  at  once 
to  view  it  and  to  rejoice  in  the  great  improvement, 
and  judge  of  my  disgust  and  wrath  when  I  found 
that  the  grasping  old  rascal  had  made  the  car- 


212  FARMING    IT 

penter  put  the  new  fence  more  than  a  foot  on  my 
land,  the  whole  length  of  the  division  line. 

After  a  vigorous  speech  to  the  propitiatory 
carpenter,  in  the  course  of  which  I  coined  several 
entirely  new  objurgations  appropriate  to  the  oc- 
casion, I  jammed  my  hat  to  my  ears  and  made 
for  Cyrus's  house.  I  was  boiling  with  rage,  and 
fortunately  for  us  both  Cyrus  was  not  at  home. 

As  I  came  back,  better  thoughts  began  to  take 
possession  of  me.  The  strip  of  land  was  n't  worth 
fighting  about.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  not  to 
have  any  row  with  my  neighbors,  and  here  I  was, 
exploding  like  a  paper  bag  the  first  time  any  one 
got  under  my  guard. 

The  old  scamp  had  certainly  scored  on  me,  but 
I  would  keep  my  eyes  open  in  the  future.  So  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  forget  it,  or  at  least,  if 
I  could  not  forget  it,  to  take  no  action  and  to 
say  no  word. 

A  short  time  after  this,  some  of  my  hens  got 
out  and  into  his  yard.  There  was  nothing  grow- 
ing at  the  time,  and  they  certainly  did  him  no 
damage.  But  when  I  came  home,  I  found  three 
dead  hens  on  my  side  of  the  fence,  that  he  had 
shot  and  thrown  over. 

This  so  "riled"  me  that  I  promised  profanely 
to  have  his  scalp  nailed  to  my  barn-door  if  it 
took  a  leg.  But  upon  sober  second  thought  I 
dressed  the  hens,  sent  them  to  him  by  my  son 


NEIGHBORHOOD   NUISANCE    213 

Dick,  with  a  polite  note  of  apology  for  the  tres- 
pass, and  a  promise  to  look  after  my  hens  in  the 
future.  I  hoped  for  one  of  two  results  from  this 
course.  First:  that  he  would  be  so  overcome  by 
my  magnanimity  that  he  would  seek  me  out,  ask 
my  pardon,  and  endeavor  to  be  a  loyal  friend 
for  life.  Second :  If  he  did  not  do  this,  that  a  bone 
of  one  of  those  deceased  biddies  would  stick  in 
his  gnarly  old  throat  and  choke  him  to  death 
lingeringly  and  horribly. 

Neither  result  happened,  however. 

The  old  wretch  had  a  habit  of  squinting  down 
the  line  of  the  new  fence,  as  if  still  doubtful  if  he 
had  got  quite  as  much  of  my  land  as  he  wished; 
and  as  he  took  occasion  to  do  this  when  I  was 
down  in  the  garden,  it  was  perfectly  evident  to 
me  that  he  was  trying  to  aggravate  me  into  hos- 
tilities.   This  I  resolved  not  to  allow  him  to  do. 

But,  alas  for  my  good  intentions !  trouble  came. 
Dick,  a  young  chap  of  seventeen,  one  day  went 
across  the  line  for  a  baseball  that  had  fallen  on 
old  Pettigrew's  land.  He  had  to  pass  nearly  to 
the  centre  of  the  old  man's  garden,  littered  with 
dead  vines  and  stubs  of  last  year's  corn-stalks, 
when  forth  from  the  bam  came  the  old  man  on 
the  run,  with  a  heavy  whip  in  his  knotted  hand, 
and  made  directly  for  Dick,  breathing  slaughter. 

Now,  this  was  a  little  too  much,  and  in  a  sec- 
ond I  had  dropped  whatever  I  had  in  my  hand 


214  FARMING    IT 

and  had  rushed  to  the  fence  with  the  intention 
of  vaulting  it,  disarming  the  old  man,  and  walk- 
ing him  Spanish  back  to  the  barn  for  a  little 
heart-to-heart  talk,  when  a  surprising  thing  hap- 
pened. 

Dick,  instead  of  running,  as  I  supposed  he 
would,  —  for  the  spectacle  of  a  man  of  sixty, 
armed  with  a  bull-whip  and  bearing  down  on 
one  with  curses  is  rather  formidable  to  a  boy,  — 
stood  quietly,  awaiting  his  approach,  with  his  left 
hand  in  his  pocket,  but  with  the  right  hanging 
at  his  side  clinching  the  baseball.  I  was  near 
enough  to  see  a  look  in  his  face  and  a  glitter  in 
his  eye  that  I  knew  meant  fight. 

Old  Pettigrew,  seeing  that  Dick  did  not  re- 
treat, slowed  down  to  a  walk,  and  then  stopped. 

"Git  offer  my  Ian',  ye  whelp  of  Satan,  or  I'll 
cut  ye  tew  ribbons!"  said  the  old  man,  with  a 
fearful  curse. 

"I  'm  going  to  get  off  your  land,  Mr.  Petti- 
grew," said  Dick;  "but  if  you  raise  that  whip 
again  I'll  smash  in  your  old  ribs  with  this  base- 
ball and  whale  you  so  your  old  hide  won't  hold 
water ;  now  get  out  of  my  way !"  And  he  stepped 
directly  toward  the  old  man,  who  was  between 
him  and  the  fence. 

"  Don't  ye  peg  that  ball  at  me  or  I  '11  have  ye 
arrested,"  said  the  old  man,  backing  precipitately 
as  the  young  chap  approached. 


GIT    OFFER   MY   LAN',    YE   WHELP  OF  SATAN 


NEIGHBORHOOD   NUISANCE   215 

Dick  said  nothing  further,  but  leisurely  walked 
to  the  fence,  vaulted  over,  and  came  face  to  face 
with  me. 

"Good  boy,  Dick!"  I  said,  as  he  looked  up  in 
surprise  and  some  sheepishness  at  getting  caught ; 
**  I  did  think  you  were  in  for  a  warm  time." 

"Huh!"  said  Dick,  "that  old  cuss, — I  could 
lick  two  of  him.    Hear  him  swear,"  he  continued. 

And  indeed  the  old  man  was  giving  the  best 
imitation  of  the  army  of  Flanders  I  had  ever 
heard.  He  danced  up  and  down  and  threatened 
every  sort  of  vengeance  a  distorted  mind  could 
think  of. 

We  paid  no  further  attention  to  the  wretched 
old  man,  but  left  him  to  cool  off.  I  was  too  much 
pleased  with  the  unexpected  fighting  qualities  of 
my  first-born  to  care  enough  about  old  Cyrus 
to  listen.  To  tell  the  entire  truth,  I  was  the  least 
bit  disappointed  that  the  old  man  had  backed 
down  so  promptly,  for  I  possessed  a  deal  of  curi- 
osity to  see  Dick  in  action. 

A  few  days  afterwards,  a  dog  that  occasionally 
came  to  the  house,  an  inoffensive,  good-natured, 
trampish  animal,  was  shot  on  the  old  man's  land 
and  probably  by  him,  although  nobody  saw  him 
do  it.  We  heard  the  shot  at  dinner,  heard  the 
agonized  yelping  of  the  poor  animal,  ran  out  and 
found  him  dying  in  the  rear  of  the  old  man's 
house. 


216  FARMING    IT 

Dick  and  I  did  not  hesitate  to  go  across  the  line 
and  bring  the  poor  old  fellow  back.  He  died 
before  we  got  him  over  the  fence.  Nobody  inter- 
fered with  us,  and  I  think  we  were  both  hugely 
disappointed. 

If  the  old  man  had  appeared  I  think  some  one 
would  have  been  hurt.  Nothing  makes  a  man 
more  wolfish  than  to  see  a  pet  shot  to  death,  and 
dying  with  wide-open,  pleading  eyes  and  panting, 
choking  breath.  We  buried  the  poor  animal 
under  an  apple  tree  in  the  orchard. 

During  the  first  spring,  summer,  and  fall,  old 
Cyrus  exhausted  every  device  to  annoy  us.  In 
the  spring,  if  the  wind  blew  in  the  direction  of  our 
buildings,  on  that  day  he  would  light  a  huge 
bonfire  of  damp  matter  and  send  dense  clouds  of 
smoke  over  us.  Finding  that  this  did  not  annoy 
us  particularly,  as  the  smoke  of  spring  bonfires 
was  very  agreeable  to  us,  he  would  put  on  an  old 
horse-blanket,  a  few  shovels  of  stable  manure,  or 
a  dead  hen,  and  raise  a  stench  that  nearly  stifled 
the  entire  neighborhood. 

He  never  failed  to  shoot  one  of  my  hens  if  it 
escaped  from  the  yard  and  trespassed,  but  after 
the  first  experience  I  no  longer  dressed  and  sent 
them  to  him.  But  on  one  occasion,  when  his  hens 
got  out  and  strayed  on  my  premises,  I  carefully 
drove  them  back  unhurt,  only  to  be  accused  of 
purposely  letting  them  out. 


NEIGHBORHOOD   NUISANCE   217 

During  the  second  winter  he  could  not  annoy 
me  as  much,  but  every  mean  insinuation  that 
malice  could  invent  or  distort,  he  made.  It  was 
in  April  of  the  second  year  that  I  got  him  hard 
and  fast,  and  by  the  merest  chance. 

I  had  in  the  previous  September  bought  my 
Jersey  cow.  I  was  very  particular  about  her  ap- 
pearance, curried  her  every  day,  bedded  and 
blanketed  her,  and  indeed  cared  for  her  as  well 
and  painstakingly  as  I  did  for  Polly.  The  custom 
of  the  local  farmers  was  to  allow  filth  to  accumu- 
late on  their  cows'  flanks  and  legs,  until  it  hung 
from  them  in  crusty  scales,  to  peel  off  in  the 
spring  with  the  shedding  of  the  old  coat.  The 
care  I  gave  my  cow  made  her  coat  shine  like  satin, 
and  certainly  lent  a  relish  to  her  milk.  In  April 
her  old  coat  became  dull  and  dead,  and  she 
began  to  rub  it  off  her  head  and  neck  in  patches, 
disclosing  a  close  new  coat  of  cream-color  where 
the  winter  coat  had  been  a  light  chestnut. 

One  morning,  in  rubbing  her  down,  I  found 
that  with  my  fingers  I  could  pull  the  old  coat  off 
in  tufts,  and  that  she  apparently  enjoyed  having 
it  pulled.  Without  really  thinking  of  what  I  was 
doing,  I  wrote  my  initials,  H.  A.  S.,  on  her  back 
by  pulling  out  the  dead  hair.  Seeing  how  easily  I 
could  do  this,  I  drew,  or  rather  pulled,  on  her 
side  near  the  curve  of  the  belly,  a  grotesque  figure 
of  a  small  boy,  then  a  circular  brand  on  her 


218  FARMING    IT 

shoulder,  and  three  X's  on  her  flank.  Then  I 
quietly  led  her  to  the  hitching-post  at  the  side 
of  the  house  and  awaited  developments. 

In  a  moment  my  wife  came  to  the  door,  with 
wide-open  eyes.  *'For  gracious  sake  what  have 
you  been  doing  to  that  cow.?"  she  demanded. 

"Oh,  nothing,"  Ireplied,  "that's  the  way  range- 
cattle  are  branded.  This  cow  had  a  good  many 
owners  and  evidently  each  one  branded  her," 
I  further  explained. 

"It's  no  such  thing,"  she  retorted  hotly,  "you 
did  it  yourself.  That  explains  why  she  bellowed 
so  this  winter." 

She  had  bellowed  a  good  deal  when  I  took 
away  her  calf,  but  I  did  not  say  so,  for  I  always 
liked  to  get  a  rise  out  of  my  wife. 

"  I  think  it  is  just  horrid  in  you,  and  about  the 
crudest  thing  I  ever  heard  of,  and  you  have  just 
spoiled  her  looks." 

Now  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  I  could  see 
old  Cyrus  peering  over  the  fence  and  listening 
gloatingly  to  the  conversation.  After  giving  him 
time  to  satisfy  himself  thoroughly,  I  led  the  cow 
back  to  the  barn,  followed  by  my  wife,  and  there 
illustrated  the  matter  by  drawing  on  the  off-side 
of  the  animal  a  serpent  and  a  circular  brand, 
while  that  delighted  animal  stood  with  eyes  half 
closed  in  ecstasy. 

Much  relieved  and  amused,  my  wife  went  back 


NEIGHBORHOOD   NUISANCE   219 

to  the  house,  laughing  over  the  ridiculously  dec- 
orated animal. 

After  milking  the  Jersey,  I  led  her  out  and 
tethered  her  in  the  sun  in  full  view  of  old  Cy- 
rus's premises,  and  finished  my  breakfast.  On 
my  return  to  lunch  I  was  informed  by  my  wife 
that  the  old  man  had  been  looking  at  the  cow 
from  over  his  fence,  in  company  with  several  men, 
to  whom  he  was  talking  with  excited  gestures. 

This  amused  me  so  much  that  I  laughed 
loudly.  But  I  did  not  for  a  moment  anticipate 
the  far-reaching  results  of  my  joke.  I  only 
thought  it  an  excellent  joke  on  the  old  man,  as 
it  had  been  on  my  wife  and  my  daughter  and 
Dick. 

That  night  I  was  to  give  a  lecture  in  a  neigh- 
boring town,  and  departed  on  the  afternoon  train, 
intending  to  return  in  the  morning.  I  had  an  ex- 
cellent audience,  an  enthusiastic  reception,  and 
a  very  flattering  introduction.  Just  as  I  had  made 
my  bow  and  was  about  to  begin,  a  man  whom 
I  knew  to  be  a  deputy  sheriff  stepped  on  the 
platform,  placed  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and 
informed  me  that  I  was  under  arrest. 

I  am  sure  I  was  never  so  astonished  in  my 
life.  If  the  audience  had  suddenly  risen  in  the 
air  like  the  card  people  in  "Alice  in  Wonder- 
land," I  should  not  have  been  more  surprised; 
nor  do  I  believe  the  audience  would  have  been, 


220  FARMING     IT 

for  his  words  were  perfectly  audible  and  he  was 
well  known  to  them. 

For  a  full  minute  I  must  have  stood  staring 
at  him.  Then  I  asked  for  his  warrant,  and  he 
handed  me  one.  I  opened  it  and  found  it  was 
regularly  issued  by  a  justice  on  a  complaint 
signed  by  old  Cyrus  Pettigrew,  charging  me  with 
"cruelty  in  burning,  cutting,  branding,  and 
otherwise  torturing  a  certain  Jersey  cow  then 
and  there  in  my  charge  and  custody,  or  wilfully 
permitting  and  allowing  said  animal  then  and 
there  in  my  custody  as  aforesaid  to  be  burned, 
cut,  branded  or  otherwise  tortured." 

In  a  flash  the  whole  scheme  dawned  on  me 
and  I  could  not  help  admiring  the  old  rascal's 
devilish  ingenuity  in  planning  the  details,  and 
at  the  same  time  his  inevitable  disgust  and  fury 
when  the  truth  was  known. 

In  the  meantime  I  was  in  the  most  unpleasant 
and  ridiculous  position  imaginable;  but  one's 
mind  works  quickly,  and  I  instantly  told  the 
audience  that  I  was  arrested  for  cruelty  to  ani- 
mals, that  if  they  would  kindly  watch  the  papers 
for  the  outcome  of  the  trial,  which  I  was  sure 
would  be  interesting  to  them,  and  defer  judg- 
ment to  that  time,  I  would  fill  my  engagement 
and  finish  my  lecture. 

The  audience  applauded,  the  sheriff  took  a 
seat  on  the  platform,  grinning  good-naturedly, 


NEIGHBORHOOD  NUISANCE    221 

and  I  began  my  lecture.  I  was  thoroughly  keyed 
up  to  the  occasion,  and  so  filled  with  laughter 
as  the  possibilities  of  the  situation  dawned  on 
me,  that  my  lecture  was  really  very  funny,  and, 
as  the  audience  said,  exceedingly  entertaining. 
Indeed,  at  its  close  they  crowded  about  me  with 
offers  of  bail  or  assistance  of  any  kind. 

I  thanked  them  most  heartily,  and,  accom- 
panied by  the  deputy,  went  to  my  hotel,  where  I 
engaged  a  room  with  two  beds,  he  having  very 
indulgently  agreed  to  stay  with  me  at  a  hotel 
rather  than  to  load  me  with  chains  and  incar- 
cerate me  in  the  local  lock-up,  which  was  in- 
deed very  good  of  him.  I  chuckled  to  myself  to 
see  the  care  with  which  he  chose  the  bed  nearer 
the  door,  looked  at  the  fastenings  of  the  win- 
dows, locked  the  door,  and  put  the  key  under  his 
pillow. 

And  so,  after  undressing,  I  lay  down  peace- 
ably on  the  other  bed,  and  having  no  guilty  con- 
science, fell  asleep.  I  am  afraid  my  keeper  did 
not  sleep  as  soundly  as  I  did,  for  I  have  a  vague 
recollection  of  his  lighting  the  gas  several  times 
during  the  night,  and  peering  at  my  recumbent 
form,  to  see  if  I  was  really  there. 

And  thus  did  we  spend  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE    DISCOMFITURE   OF   CYRUS 

N  the  morning,  after  a  bath,  which  I 
took,  but  which  the  deputy  declined, 
we  went  downstairs  to  breakfast, 
where  I  was  stared  at  by  the  few 
early  guests,  who  evidently  considered  me  a 
very  desperate  character  indeed,  and  where  I 
was  obliged  to  decline  several  interviews  with 
reporters,  to  whom  I  told  nothing  beyond  urg- 
ing them  to  attend  the  trial,  which  I  told  them 
would  probably  be  continued  to  the  next  week, 
as  I  should  ask  for  time  to  prepare  my  case 
thoroughly. 

The  morning  papers  had  accounts  of  the  ar- 
rest, with  comments  upon  my  personality.  Upon 
returning  home,  I  went  at  once  to  the  court- 
room, where  I  found  Cyrus  and  his  counsel  and 
a  crowd  awaiting  me. 

I  waived  the  reading  of  the  complaint,  pleaded 
not  guilty,  and  asked  for  a  continuance  of  one 
week.  To  this  the  prosecuting  attorney  entered 
a  most  vigorous  objection,  and  argued  the  mat- 
ter at  great  length, — to  no  purpose,  however. 


DISCOMFITURE   OF   CYRUS    223 

as  my  request  was  reasonable  and  proper.  I  was 
held  in  bail  of  five  hundred  dollars,  —  although 
the  attorney,  urged  on  by  old  Cyrus,  asked  for 
five  thousand,  —  and  hurried  home  to  explain 
matters. 

My  first  anxiety  was  to  secure  the  cow  from 
examination,  as  I  did  not  want  the  prosecution 
to  find  out  the  truth  and  spoil  the  fun.  I  found 
that  one  or  two  had  called  to  see  the  cow,  but  that 
Dick  had  kept  the  barn  locked. 

The  week  I  spent  before  the  trial  was  one  of 
the  queerest  and  most  amusing,  and  at  times  un- 
comfortable, I  had  ever  spent  in  my  life.  The 
papers  devoted  a  good  deal  of  space  to  me,  and 
evidently  considered  me  a  rather  hopeless  case. 
Indeed,  to  judge  from  the  talk  of  my  fellow  citi- 
zens, I  had  been  a  whited  sepulchre,  a  wolf  in 
sheep's  clothing  and  several  other  objectionable 
things,  for  a  long  time.  Much  to  my  pleasure,  my 
neighbors,  to  a  man,  stood  by  me.  I  suppose  they 
considered  that  of  two  evils,  I,  as  the  newest 
comer,  could  not  be  as  bad  as  old  Cyrus,  or  one 
tenth  as  bad  as  he  painted  me. 

The  day  before  the  trial  my  wife  was,  to 
her  intense  indignation,  summoned  as  a  witness 
by  the  prosecution.  Although  as  my  wife  she 
could  not  be  compelled  to  testify  against  me,  I 
persuaded  her  to  waive  her  rights  and  to  testify, 
telling  her  how  great  a  compliment  they  paid  her 


224  FARMING    IT 

in  being  willing  to  assume  that  she  would  tell 
the  truth  even  if  it  sent  her  helpmeet  to  a  felon's 
cell. 

The  great  day  arrived,  and  there  was  vast 
excitement  in  our  midst.  I  had  never  been  tried 
for  my  life  or  liberty  before,  and  naturally  woke 
early  and  ate  but  little  breakfast.  I  drank,  how- 
ever, two  cups  of  strong  coffee,  and  after  break- 
fast went  to  the  stable  to  arrange  with  Pat  to 
bring  my  main  witness,  the  cow,  to  the  court  at 
the  proper  time.  I  had  bought  a  handsome 
blanket  for  her,  and  before  Pat  put  it  on  I  ex- 
amined her  carefully.  Although  she  had  shed  a 
considerable  amount  of  hair  during  the  week, 
the  letters  and  figures  were  as  distinct  as  ever. 

Then,  giving  Pat  instructions  to  wait  until 
sent  for,  and  on  no  account  to  let  any  one  ex- 
amine her  or  lift  the  blanket,  and  arming  him 
with  a  long  whip  to  enforce  my  commands,  I 
started  for  the  court-house  with  my  devoted 
family.  As  we  approached  the  edifice,  we  saw 
an  immense  crowd  gathered  around  the  door  and 
steps  and  sidewalk. 

Cameras  clicked  and  snapped  and  took  our 
lineaments  and  our  widely  divergent,  joint  and 
several  proportions,  to  their  secret  recesses; 
impertinent  strangers  climbed  on  one  another's 
shoulders  and  stared  and  voted  us  generally  a 
bad  lot,   and  frowned  and   sneered  when  our 


DISCOMFITURE   OF  CYRUS    225 

friends,  or  some  of  them,  smiled  and  wished  us 
luck. 

It  took  the  entire  police  posse  to  force  an  en- 
trance to  the  court-room,  and  after  we  had  taken 
seats  the  prosecuting  attorney  began  his  opening 
address,  upon  which  he  had  spent  the  entire 
week.  He  pictured  me  as  a  monster,  a  bloodless, 
cruel,  devilish  vampire,  a  man  with  a  heart 
barred  to  every  human  impulse,  with  blood 
as  cold  as  an  iceberg.  He  pictured  the  meek, 
mild,  gentle  cow,  made  for  man's  delight,  for 
woman's  happiness,  for  children's  life  and  wel- 
fare, thrown  roughly  to  the  floor,  pinioned  and 
helpless,  while  the  cruel,  scorching,  red-hot 
branding-irons  burned  their  relentless  way  into 
her  shrinking,  palpitating  tissues,  leaving  their 
shameful  brand  like  the  mark  of  Cain  or  the  Scar- 
let Letter.  He  said,  —  but  perhaps  it  is  unneces- 
sary to  repeat  all  he  said ;  but  at  the  close  of  his 
address  the  audience  turned  from  me  with  loath- 
ing, or  glared  at  me  with  baleful  eyes,  and  my 
wife,  on  hearing  her  name  called  as  the  first 
witness,  jumped  as  if  some  one  had  jabbed  her 
with  a  hat  pin. 

Mrs.  Shute,  being  sworn,  testified  that  she  was 
the  wife  of  the  respondent,  that  she  lived  with 
him  on  Pine  Street,  that  he  was  perfectly  sane 
and  responsible,  and  had  never  acted  queerly, — 
no,  sir !  he  certainly  had  not ;  that  he  kept  a  Jer- 


226  FARMING     IT 

sey  cow,  —  that  it  was  bought  the  year  before 
that  there  were  no  marks  nor  brands  on  it  then, 
nor  later;  that  she  first  saw  them  a  week  ago; 
the  marks  were,  on  the  left  side,  Mr.  Shute's 
initials,  H.  A.  S.,  a  circular  brand  on  the  shoul- 
der, three  X's  on  the  flank,  and  on  the  right  side 
a  serpent  and  a  circular  brand;  that  they  were 
put  there  during  the  winter,  —  by  her  husband 
as  he  said ;  that  she  had  heard  the  cow  bellowing 
not  long  before  —  about  the  time  they  sold  the 
calf ;  supposed  it  was  that ;  never  saw  any  brand- 
ing-irons ;  Mr.  Shute  could  have  had  them  with- 
out her  knowledge;  did  get  angry  and  scolded 
her  husband ;  did  say  it  was  the  crudest  thing  he 
ever  did. 

Mrs.  Shute  was  excused,  Mr.  Shute  not  asking 
her  any  questions. 

By  this  time  the  audience  were  ready  to  ap- 
plaud a  death-sentence. 

Dr.  LePelletier  was  sworn :  Was  a  veterina- 
rian; made  an  examination  of  cow;  found  her 
covered  with  brands ;  must  have  been  made  with 
red-hot  irons;  must  have  caused  great  agony  to 
her;  bellowing  was  undoubtedly  caused  by  tor- 
ture; cicatrices  very  plain;  hair  never  would 
grow  again  because  hide  burned  through ;  marks 
could  not  be  removed  except  by  skinning  cow; 
marks  were  not  on  cow  the  preceding  autumn. 

Cross-examined:   Not  nearer  the  cow    than 


DISCOMFITURE  OF  CYRUS    227 

across  the  fence  —  about  two  rods ;  could  not 
have  been  mistaken ;  marks  made  with  brand- 
ing-irons or  red-hot  end  of  iron ;  cows  sometimes 
bellow  when  calf  taken  from  them;  called  to 
view  cow  by  Mr.  Pettigrew ;  very  nice  man,  Mr. 
Pettigrew. 

Dr.  LePelletier  stepped  down. 

At  the  close  of  the  doctor's  testimony  the  audi- 
ence showed  their  feelings  quite  plainly,  and  evi- 
dently considered  burying  me  at  a  cross-road 
with  a  stake  through  my  heart  as  the  least  thing 
that  could  be  done  under  the  circumstances. 

Cyrus  Pettigrew,  sworn.  Cyrus  made  the 
responses  to  the  oath  with  great  vigor  and  dis- 
tinctness. Was  a  neighbor;  saw  cow  when  she 
was  bought,  and  every  day  until  winter;  saw 
her  last  eight  days  ago;  branded  all  over, — hor- 
ribly; described  marks  at  great  length:  large 
scars  of  burning;  heard  cow  bellowing  dread- 
fully a  short  time  before;  pounding  in  stable; 
sounded  like  struggle;  Mr.  Shute  a  man  of  un- 
governable temper,  very  profane ;  boy  takes  after 
his  father;  heard  Mrs.  Shute  complain  of  Mr. 
Shute' s  brutality  to  the  cow ;  she  was  very  angry 
at  it ;  heard  him  say  he  did  it ;  heard  her  call  him 
a  cruel  man ;  remembered  smelling  burning  hair 
and  flesh  at  different  times  during  the  winter; 
heard  bellowing;  did  not  go  over  because  did 
not  wish  to  intrude ;  did  n't  imagine  a  man  could 


228  FARMING    IT 

be  so  cruel ;  had  no  interest  in  case  except  to 
stop  brutality. 

Cross-examination :  Did  n't  have  any  trouble 
over  fence ;  moved  fence  over  because  it  belonged 
there ;  did  shoot  hens  because  they  did  damage ; 
hens  can  do  damage  in  winter;  did  eat  them 
when  they  were  sent  him ;  did  not  shoot  dog ;  was 
shot  on  his  land;  don't  know  who  did  it;  saw 
respondent  and  son  there  with  dog;  could  not 
say  but  they  did  it ;  did  try  to  drive  respondent's 
son  off  land ;  had  whip  in  hand ;  did  n't  strike 
boy  because  only  wanted  to  scare  him;  might 
have  said  some  things  to  boy;  boy  was  "sassy" ; 
was  never  convicted  of  girdling  trees  of  neighbor. 

Violent  objection  by  counsel  for  prosecution, 
who  demanded  to  know  whether  or  not  witness 
had  any  rights,  and  whether  or  not  we  were  living 
in  "Rooshia." 

Objection  overruled  by  court,  who  decided  for 
counsel's  benefit  that  we  were  still  in  America. 

Witness  ordered  to  answer:  Was  not  con- 
victed; was  arrested  once  on  false  charge;  did 
pay  some  money  to  help  neighbor  out ;  did  n't 
remember  how  much;  never  had  trouble  with 
neighbors;  had  shot  Professor  Miller's  hens; 
Professor  Miller  did  not  make  any  trouble ;  had 
some  students  arrested  once;  students  were  dis- 
charged ;  was  sure  marks  on  cow  were  made  by 
hot  iron ;  could  see  scars ;  had  no  ill-will  toward 


DISCOMFITURE   OF   CYRUS    229 

respondent;  had  given  warrant  to  deputy  in 
evening;  gave  him  no  instruction  except  where 
to  find  respondent ;  knew  respondent  was  to  give 
lecture ;  did  tell  deputy  to  arrest  at  once ;  did  not 
tell  deputy  he  was  a  damned  fool  to  let  respond- 
ent finish  lecture ;  may  have  said  something  like 
that. 

At  the  close  of  the  cross-examination  of  old 
Cyrus,  it  was  plain  to  see  that  he  had  not  helped 
the  prosecution  much,  but  had  created  a  dis- 
tinctly bad  impression,  and  that  the  audience 
would  be  satisfied  with  plain  electrocution. 

The  prosecuting  attorney  then  demanded  that 
the  cow  be  brought  in  as  a  witness,  and  said  that, 
inasmuch  as  he  had  served  a  subpoena  duces  tecum 
upon  me,  and  the  object  of  the  du£es  tecum  had 
not  appeared,  he  moved  for  an  attachment  for 
contempt. 

In  reply  I  purged  myself  of  contempt  by  assur- 
ing the  court  that  the  cow  was  then  and  there  in 
transitu,  and  I  should  call  her  as  my  first  wit- 
ness. The  prosecution  then  rested,  and  I  asked 
the  court  to  take  a  recess  for  five  minutes,  when 
I  would  be  ready.  In  less  than  that  time  Dick, 
who  had  left  the  court-room,  returned,  saying 
that  the  cow  was  in  the  square  in  front  of  the 
building,  and  I  asked  the  court  to  adjourn  to  the 
square  for  a  view. 

This  was  done,  the  audience  piling  out  like 


230  FARMING     IT 

school-boys.  Arrived  in  the  square,  a  dense 
crowd  had  collected  about  the  Jersey,  who, 
blanketed  and  guarded  by  two  burly  Irishmen, 
stared  inquiringly  about  until  she  saw  me,  when 
she  gave  a  soft  moo  of  recognition.  With  some 
difficulty  the  officers  cleared  a  large  ring,  in  the 
centre  of  which  stood  the  cow,  Mike,  Pat,  the 
honorable  Court,  the  respondent,  the  complain- 
ant, the  attorney  for  the  prosecution. 

I  then  addressed  the  court  as  follows:  "May 
it  please  the  Court;  I  now  propose  to  demon- 
strate by  the  clearest  evidence  possible  how  far 
the  malicious  ingenuity  of  a  vicious  old  man, 
and  a  bad  neighbor,  will  go  to  make  trouble  for  a 
person  who  never  did  him  an  unkindness,  —  in 
short  that  the  cow  never  was  hurt  or  tortured  or 
branded ;  that  the  whole  thing  was  an  innocent 
joke,  a  fool  joke  perhaps,  but  one  that  never  hurt 
or  injured  any  one  or  anything." 

I  then  stripped  off  the  blanket,  and  there  in 
plain  sight  were  the  various  marks  on  the  cow's 
hide.  At  my  request  the  court  and  the  attorney 
ran  their  hands  over  her  and  found  no  scars. 

"Now,  to  show  your  Honor  how  these  marks 
were  made  — " 

"It  is  unnecessary,"  said  the  court,  "I  have 
owned  cows  myself,  and  perhaps  I  can  illustrate 
as  well  as  you";  and  stepping  forward,  with 
rapid  hands  he  fashioned  upon  her  side  the  word 


THE  WHOLE  THING   WAS  AN   INNOCENT  JOKE 


DISCOMFITURE   OF  CYRUS    231 

"Stung,"  at  which  there  was  a  roar  of  deh'ght 
and  appreciation  from  the  crowd.  "Respondent 
discharged,"  he  continued,  "and  court  is  ad- 
journed." 

At  the  close  of  the  formalities  I  held  an  im- 
promptu reception  in  the  square  and  shook  hands 
with  several  hundred  people.  But  before  an  hour 
had  elapsed  I  had  issued  a  Capias  for  old  Cyrus 
in  a  fifty-thousand-dollar  suit  for  malicious  prose- 
cution. 

In  vain  he  tried  to  get  bail ;  nobody  would  bail 
him,  and  that  night  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
perhaps,  he  slept  in  jail.  The  April  term  was  in 
progress  and  my  suit  could  not  be  entered  until 
October,  and  in  the  event  of  not  obtaining  bail 
he  would  have  to  remain  in  jail  until  October. 

The  next  day  he  sent  for  me.  I  refused  to  see 
him.  The  day  after  he  sent  me  a  written  appeal. 
I  threw  it  in  the  waste-basket.  The  third  day  an 
old  acquaintance  of  his,  and  one  whom  he  had 
wronged,  called  and  begged  me  to  give  him  a 
chance.  I  made  him  wait  a  few  days.  By  this 
time  the  old  man's  appeals  were  abject. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  I  went  to  see  him.  He 
had  aged  terribly  in  that  week,  and  I  could  n't 
help  pitying  him.  But  I  was  cold  and  stem  and 
firm,  and  before  I  left  I  had  a  sworn  statement 
from  him  of  certain  things  that  would  have 
brought  him  perilously  near  state  prison,  but 


232  FARMING    IT 

which  I  promised  not  to  use  as  long  as  he  be- 
haved himself. 

I  then  withdrew  my  suit,  and  he  came  from  jail 
a  thoroughly  humbled  and  broken-spirited  old 
man.  He  did  not  remain  in  Exeter  long,  but  as 
soon  as  he  could  sell  his  property  left  the  state. 
He  died  a  year  or  so  ago  in  a  distant  state.  Poor 
old  chap !  I  have  sometimes  wondered  if  I  were 
not  a  bit  too  hard  on  him.   Perhaps  I  was. 


CHAPTER  XXin 

A   RETURN 

T  was  a  beautiful  afternoon  in  August 
about  three  years  after  I  bought  my 
farm,  and  I  was  sitting  in  my  oflSce 
idly  watching  the  people  passing  in 
the  square,  and  wondering  why  I  did  not  hear 
from  Dick,  who  was  on  a  vacation  and  had  not 
written  me  for  ten  days.  I  missed  him  and  missed 
his  letters,  which  were  bright,  gossipy,  and  full  of 
happy  observations  on  passing  events. 

Dick  had  greatly  disappointed  me  by  firmly 
standing  out  against  a  college  course,  and  by 
entering  my  oflBce  for  the  study  of  law.  But  in 
the  office  he  was  so  apt  and  helpful,  so  good- 
natured  and  so  studious,  that  I  felt  that  perhaps 
he  was  right  after  all,  and  I  had  been  looking 
forward  to  the  day  when  his  name  might  be  on 
my  sign,  —  so  selfish  do  old  men  get  when  their 
interests  are  concerned. 

I  felt  reasonably  sure  about  Dick.  He  was  by 
no  means  a  goody-goody,  had  a  quick  temper, 
was  more  than  a  bit  mulish,  but  well-disposed 
and  rather  ambitious.    He  was  well-liked  by  his 


234  FARMING    IT 

acquaintances,  and  popular  in  a  jovial,  good- 
fellow-sort  of  way  with  the  girls.  While  he  had 
taken  them  to  dances  and  entertainments,  called 
on  them,  serenaded  them  with  close-harmonied 
quartettes  and  glee-clubs,  he  had  never  shown 
any  serious  preference  for  any  particular  girl, 
and  always  when  talking  with  me  of  his  girl 
acquaintances  had  been  frank  and  confidential. 
He  was  emphatically  a  boy  to  trust  in  such  mat- 
ters, and  I  felt  very  confident  that  he  would  never 
make  a  fool  of  himself  over  any  girl  or  woman. 

On  this  day  I  was  feeling  remarkably  at  peace 
with  the  world.  Business  had  been  good,  and 
fairly  remunerative,  the  farm  was  prospering. 
I  had  eaten  strawberries  from  my  own  patch 
until  I  could  eat  no  more,  raspberries  and  cur- 
rants from  my  own  bushes,  all  the  early  vege- 
tables in  season.  My  hens  had  laid  wonderfully 
well,  and  the  young  cockerels  were  beginning  to 
crow,  my  homing  pigeons  and  black,  smooth- 
legged  tumblers  had  been  prolific.  In  fact,  a 
season  of  unprecedented  peace  and  prosperity 
had  enveloped  my  little  farm  as  a  garment. 

The  afternoon  mail  came,  and  I  lazily  looked 
it  over.  There  was  little  of  importance  save  a 
letter  from  Dick.  I  put  that  aside  for  a. moment 
while  I  dictated  replies  to  the  business  letters, 
and  then,  while  the  click  of  the  typewriter  in  the 
inner  room  disturbed  the  summer  silence,  I  leaned 


A    RETURN  235 

back  to  enjoy  Dick's  letter,  but  promptly  sat  up 
with  a  jerk  as  I  read  this  brief  but  astonishing 
message. 

Aug.  6,  190- 

Dear  Old  Man, — 1  have  drawn  on  you  for 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  Please  honor  draft 
as  I  must  have  the  money.  Will  explain  every- 
thing when  I  get  home  which  will  be  on  Thursday 
next  at  about  six  o'clock.  I  am  not  coming  alone, 
for  I  shall  bring  a  young  lady  with  me.  You  can- 
not help  loving  her  as  I  do. 

Yours, 

Dick. 

I  looked  out  on  the  square  without  seeing  any- 
thing. Then  I  took  up  the  letter  again ;  but  the 
page  shook  so  I  could  n't  read  a  word.  I  took  a 
turn  round  the  oflBce,  gulped  down  a  glass  of 
water,  took  a  fierce  grasp  of  myself,  and  this  time 
read  the  letter  through  from  date  to  signature. 
Then  I  sat  in  the  window  trying  to  realize  it. 
Dick  married !  to  a  girl  I  had  never  seen,  or  heard 
of,  and  knew  nothing  about !  Perhaps  to  a  de- 
signing, elderly  woman,  possibly  a  widow,  who 
knew  how  to  marshal  her  attractions  so  as  to 
bewilder  and  dazzle  a  boy  of  nineteen.  What 
would  become  of  his  future,  his  law  studies, 
his  partnership  with  me,  our  joint  productions  in 
the  way  of  briefs,  declarations,  rejoinders,  sur- 


236  FARMING    IT 

rejoinders,  rebutters,  and  sur-rebutters,  our  divi- 
sion of  respectable  if  not  fat  fees,  our  enjoyment 
of  an  honorable  and  solid  if  not  brilliant  reputa- 
tion as  country  attorneys,  our  joint  productions 
as  amateur  agriculturists  in  the  way  of  fruits, 
vegetables,  staple  products,  and  live-stock  ? 

What  was  to  become  of  my  ambition  to  retire 
one  day  from  active  work  in  oflBce,  court,  farm,  and 
garden,  and  to  hand  over  the  sceptre  of  author- 
ity to  my  son  Dick  ?  What  was  to  become  of  — 
Oh,  damn  it  all !  hang  all  designing  women,  all 
languishing,  ogling,  curl-shaking,  deceptive,  false, 
dangerous  widows! 

And  Dick  had  done  this !  Dick !  who  had  al- 
ways been  frank  and  square  with  me.  Dick  had 
married,  a  nobody,  perhaps,  a  girl  whom  we 
might  not  be  able  to  take  to  our  hearts  or  our 
house.  Why  was  n't  the  law  different  ?  Why 
did  n't  we  live  in  Germany  or  France  or  Russia 
or  in  some  sensible  country  where  boys  of  nine- 
teen could  n't  contract  marriage  without  their 
parents'  consent.? 

Well,  I  must  face  it,  we  must  all  face  it ;  I  would 
pay  the  draft,  but  if  Dick  thought  he  was  going 
to  bring  a  squint-eyed  Jezebel  to  my  house  for 
me  to  support;  if  Dick  really  expected  to  have 
me  provide  food,  clothing  and  lodging  for  any 
gray-haired  fairy  he  was  ass  enough  to  fall  in 
love  with ;  if  Dick  was  banking  on  the  probability 


A    RETURN  237 

that  my  wife  and  I  would  step  down  and  out  for 
the  first  female  harpy  that  managed  to  get  her 
veteran  claws  through  his  donkey's  hide, — why, 
Dick  would  have  a  chance  to  leam  something 
come  Thursday  evening  at  about  six. 

No,  he  should  not  come  home,  danged  if  he 
should !  I  would  write  him  at  once.  "  Here !  Miss 
Blank!"  I  yelled  so  loudly  to  my  stenographer 
that,  for  the  first  time  in  her  oflBce-life  perhaps, 
she  came  into  my  room  without  running  her  hand 
through  her  fluffy  foretop  or  settling  her  belt. 
"  Take  this  down  at  once !  No,  I  '11  write  it  my- 
self." Where  shall  I  address  the  idiot  ?  Just  like 
him ;  no  address  given,  —  letter  posted  in  Boston. 
On  his  honeymoon  in  Boston,  with  my  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars.  Well,  he  would  find  mighty 
little  honeymoon  after  he  got  home  with  his 
superannuated  old  helpmeet.  And  I  broke  into 
such  hearty  maledictions  that  the  stenographer 
tiptoed  to  her  door  and  softly  closed  it. 

Then  I  went  home  with  my  letter  and  read  it 
to  my  wife.  She  had  recourse  to  tears,  then  re- 
proaches, then  hysterics.  I  thought  I  had  carried 
on  badly  enough,  but  she  showed  me  a  few  new 
things  in  that  line.  It  was  I  who  was  to  blame. 
It  was  I  who  had  allowed  him  too  much  liberty. 
It  was  I  who  had  sent  him  to  that  horrid  summer 
resort,  and  had  furnished  him  with  money  to 
spend  on  horrid  old  false-fronted  widows.   And 


238  FARMING    IT 

did  Dick  think  he  was  going  to  bring  that  woman 
home  for  her  to  work  for  ?  Well  she  guessed  not ! 
And  did  that  woman  think  —  Well,  it  is  not 
advisable  to  disclose  all  she  said.  In  view  of  later 
developments  we  both  have  reconsidered  many 
conclusions  that  we  arrived  at  that  day,  and  have 
been  truly  sorry  for  some  things  we  said;  but 
allowing  for  the  excitement  under  which  we 
labored,  and  the  sudden  dashing  of  our  hopes  to 
the  ground,  some  allowance  should  be  made  for 
us  both. 

We  were  however  firmly  of  the  opinion  that 
she  was  at  least  forty,  wore  a  false  front,  rouge, 
pearl-powder,  and  high-heeled  shoes,  and  laced 
to  suffocation.  It  was  thought  best  to  acquaint 
Gramp  and  Dick's  uncles  and  aunts  with  the 
circumstances,  and  they  were  nearly  as  much 
affected,  and  in  somewhat  the  same  way,  as  we 
were.  His  aunts  wept  bitterly,  while  his  uncles, 
following  Gramp's  distinguished  leadership, 
painted  some  of  the  most  vivid  word-pictures  I 
ever  saw  or  heard.  I  really  was  quite  ashamed 
of  my  feeble  efforts  after  hearing  theirs. 

For  the  next  few  days  I  thought  of  the  matter 
constantly.  I  slept  badly  and  dreamed  hideous 
dreams.  My  wife  went  about  with  red  eyes  and 
woe-begone  countenance.  My  daughter  was  the 
only  one  who  viewed  the  matter  in  the  proper 
spirit.    She  looked  at  it  with  unjaundiced  eyes, 


A    RETURN  239 

and  looked  forward  with  anticipation  to  a  new 
sister.  Indeed,  after  a  few  days  I  found  myself 
wondering  if  I  had  not  been  a  bit  hasty.  Perhaps 
after  all  she  might  not  be  so  bad.  Suppose  she 
was  young  and  pretty  and  dutiful  ?  It  would  n't 
be  at  all  bad.  Suppose,  after  a  time,  a  grand- 
daughter or  grandson  arrived  ?  Well,  I  always 
had  loved  my  babies,  and  I  guess  I  would  make 
a  pretty  good  grandpa  after  all,  and  Dick  could 
have  the  large  east  front  room  for  a  sitting-room, 
and  the  small  bedroom  adjoining.  I  had  prac- 
tised law  long  enough  to  know  the  folly  of  antici- 
pating a  judgment.  I  was  an  ass,  a  venerable 
long-eared  ass.  I  would  venture  to  bet  she  was 
young  and  pretty.  Dick  was  no  fool.  He  may 
have  been  a  bit  imprudent,  but  who  wanted  an 
icicle  for  a  son  ?  I  would  n't  give  a  cent  for  a  boy 
who  would  n't  be  carried  off  his  feet  provided  the 
right  girl  came  along.  I  was  wrong,  I  had  been 
an  ass.  I  guess  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  paint 
and  paper  those  rooms,  and  to  get  a  new  rug  for 
the  floor  and  a  chiffonier  with  long,  wide  drawers. 
Women  liked  them,  and  I  guess  Dick's  wife 
should  have  them  if  she  wanted  them.  The  best 
was  none  too  good  for  Dick,  and  Dick's  wife  was 
going  to  be  treated  about  as  well  as  he.  I  saw  a 
handsome  fur  rug  that  would  n't  look  at  all  badly 
in  front  of  their  fireplace.  Perhaps  she  had  bet- 
ter choose  these  things.  Yes,  there  was  no  doubt 


240  FARMING     IT 

of  it,  —  I  would  wait.    But  we  would  welcome 
her  all  the  same,  for  she  was  Dick's  wife. 

It  was  Thursday  afternoon,  and  we  were 
waiting  for  Dick  and  his  wife  to  arrive.  I  had 
shaved  and  put  on  my  newly-pressed  summer 
suit ;  my  wife  had  on  a  white  duck  suit  and  white 
tennis  shoes,  my  daughter  wore  the  same.  I  sat 
under  a  tree  reading  a  newspaper ;  a  couple  of 
law  books  lay  opened  at  my  feet.  I  had  n't  read 
them,  and  did  n't  intend  to  read  them,  and  did  n't 
care  a  hang  what  they  contained.  Only  it  would 
be  a  good  idea  to  let  Dick's  wife  know  just  what 
sort  of  a  family  she  was  entering.  If  she  was 
well-bred,  she  would  feel  more  at  home,  and  if 
she  was  ill-bred,  forward,  or  conceited,  it  would 
perhaps  be  as  well  to  impress  her  in  the  first  place 
so  as  to  keep  her  from  undue  self-assertiveness. 

As  I  sat  there  pretending  to  read,  but  in  reality 
not  seeing  a  line  or  a  word  of  the  page,  I  began 
again  to  be  depressed  about  the  prospect  of  an 
addition  to  the  family  that  would  at  best  be  thor- 
oughly unwelcome  both  to  my  wife  and  to  me, 
and,  more  unfortunately,  to  Dick.  A  boy  of  his 
age  would  not  be  likely  to  be  attracted  by  a 
young  and  refined  girl,  because  Dick  was  cer- 
tainly young,  and  for  a  boy,  rather  refined  and 
fastidious,  and  he  would  be  all  the  more  liable 
to  be  impressed  by  the  coarser  and  more  mature 


A    RETURN  241 

charms  of  an  altogether  impossible  person,  only, 
alas!  to  find  out  his  fatal  mistake  too  late. 

It  was  only  too  true :  Dick  was  an  ass,  and  my 
first  impressions  were  too  likely  to  be  true.  Hang 
the  women !  hang  'em ! !  hang  'em ! ! ! 

In  spite  of  my  disgust,  anger,  and  deep  depres- 
sion, I  could  not  restrain  a  smile  as  I  suddenly 
beheld  Gramp  appear  on  his  piazza  across  the 
street,  got  up  as  Gramp  generally  gets  himself 
up  on  festal  occasions,  regardless,  not  of  expense 
but  of  appearances.  He  had  put  on  an  old- 
fashioned  black  broadcloth  coat  with  tails,  — 
one  of  those  perfectly  dreadful  coats  that  make 
a  respectable  man  look  like  a  composite  picture 
of  a  pirate,  a  Methodist  parson  of  the  old  school 
and  a  faro-dealer.  He  had  neglected  to  change 
his  trousers,  and  wore  an  old  pair  of  an  inde- 
scribable color,  —  a  sort  of  greenish  brown  gar- 
nished with  grease  spots,  —  and  ending  in  an  old 
pair  of  shoes  run  down  at  the  heel,  cracked 
across  the  tops  and  sides,  and  gray  with  ashes. 

The  costume,  topped  by  a  rusty  black  felt  hat 
at  a  rakish  angle  on  his  snow-white  hair,  and 
further  ornamented  by  a  new  clay  pipe,  made 
of  the  old  gentleman  a  rather  fierce  but  very  fine- 
looking  old  chap. 

Beside  him  sat  two  of  Dick's  aunts,  as  usual, 
well  and  quietly  dressed,  and  looking  like  thor- 
oughbreds,  all  evidently  conscious  of  the  vital 


242  FARMING     IT 

necessity  of  a  first  impression.  None  of  the 
uncles  were  present,  they  having  rather  forcibly 
expressed  their  disgust  with  the  whole  proceed- 
ings. 

As  it  drew  near  six  o'clock,  I  could  sit  still  no 
longer  and  walked  to  the  hedge  and  looked  down 
the  street.  Suddenly,  from  the  opposite  direction, 
I  heard  the  rapid  thud  of  a  horse's  feet,  —  a 
quick  short  snappy  trot  that  seemed  strangely 
familiar.  I  turned  and  stared,  and  there  whirled 
round  the  comer  a  sorrel  mare  with  head  up, 
mane  and  tail  flying,  going  like  the  wind,  and 
drawing  a  light  buggy  in  which  sat  a  young  man 
grinning  delightedly  and  holding  the  flying  mare 
with  the  coachman's  grip.  Shades  of  immortal 
Caesar !  it  was  Dick  driving  Polly,  —  Polly  for 
whom  I  had  hunted  so  long  and  vainly! 

I  was  never  so  completely  taken  aback  in  my 
life,  and  stood  blankly  with  my  mouth  open  like 
a  "plumb  idjut."  On  the  piazza  my  wife  and 
daughter  stood  like  people  bereft  of  sense,  until 
suddenly  Nathalie's  voice  rang  out:  "Father! 
father!   It's  Polly!   Dick's  got  Polly!" 

By  this  time  Dick  had  pulled  up,  jumped  to 
the  ground,  thrown  the  reins  over  Polly's  back, 
and  had  come  forward  to  greet  us. 

"Well,  old  man,"  he  said,  "what  do  you  think 
of  my  young  lady  ?" 

"You  infernal  young  rascal!"  I  sputtered;  "I 


IT  S  POLLY,   DICK  'S  GOT  POLLY  ! 


A    RETURN  243 

have  been  frightened  into  good  behavior  for  a 
week.  I  thought  you  were  married  to  a  woman 
fifty  years  old  and  fat  as  a  toad." 

And  then  we  fell  on  him,  and  thumped  and 
pump-handled  him,  and  patted  Polly,  who  was 
as  glad  to  get  back  as  we  were  to  see  her;  and 
then  we  dragged  Dick  in  to  supper  and  demanded 
explanations  instantly  on  penalty  of  life  and 
limb,  and  without  benefit  of  clergy. 

And  Dick  told  how  he  had  seen  Polly  one  day 
pass  through  a  suburb  of  Boston,  and  had  fol- 
lowed on  foot  and  by  car,  and  had  finally  located 
her  and  had  bought  her  after  considerable  dick- 
ering, for  he  soon  found  out  that  her  unpleasant 
habit  of  halter-pulling  had^  cheapened  her  con- 
siderably in  the  estimation  of  her  owner.  As  to 
the  buggy  and  harness  he  said  he  had  always 
wanted  a  new  buggy  and  harness,  and  he  thought 
I  would  not  mind  if  he  bought  them. 

Mind!  the  young  scamp,  —  if  he  had  known 
how  much  I  really  would  have  been  willing  to  give 
to  get  him  out  of  the  scrape  I  fancied  he  was  in, 
he  could  have  stocked  up  with  an  automobile. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

LOOKING    BACKWARD 

[X  years  have  passed  since  I  bought 
my  farm,  —  years  that  have  brought 
me  hard  work  and  but  Httle  more  than 
a  comfortable  living  in  my  profession. 
But  the  genuine  pleasure  I  have  experienced 
and  the  physical  benefit  I  have  derived  from  the 
cultivation  of  my  tiny  farm,  have  much  more  than 
repaid  me  for  the  many  annoyances  and  losses 
in  time  and  money  my  ill-directed  but  well- 
meant  efforts  have  cost  me. 

True,  I  have  not  arrived  at  that  point  where 
experienced  farmers  ask  my  advice  in  matters 
pertaining  to  the  cultivation  of  the  soil,  the  breed- 
ing of  domestic  animals,  the  relative  advantage 
of  top-dressing  and  sub-soiling,  or  other  disputed 
questions  in  agricultural  affairs. 

I  have  not  even  arrived  at  the  distinguished 
honor  of  being  a  recognized  contributor  to  an 
agricultural  paper:  my  only  contribution,  which 
was  written  in  a  jocose  spirit,  was  sent  back  with 
great  promptness,  with  a  note  from  the  editor 
expressing  an  opinion  decidedly  adverse  to  the 


LOOKING    BACKWARD      245 

admission  of  the  article  on  the  ground  that  "  The 
flippant  and  puerile  spirit  pervading  the  whole 
article  does  not  accord  with  the  dignity  of  the 
paper  or  the  importance  of  the  subject." 

But  I  have  afforded  amusement  for  my  neigh- 
bors, my  friends  and  the  public  generally  by  the 
variety  of  my  experiences,  and  —  Well,  a  person 
who  creates  amusement  for  the  public  is  not 
wholly  useless  in  this  world,  and  so  I  feel  that  I 
have  done  something  for  others.  Besides,  there 
are  many  persons  who  have  actually  added  mate- 
rially to  their  income  from  my  farming  and  gar- 
dening operations. 

I  have  bought  cows  and  horses,  hens  and  pigs, 
fertilizers  and  fruit  trees,  deodorizers  and  disin- 
fectants, cedar  posts  and  wire-netting,  patent 
feeders  and  patent  foods,  and  have,  for  each  and 
every  horse,  hen,  pig,  bag,  barrel,  and  other 
article,  paid  somewhat  over  the  market  price. 

I  have  exchanged,  dickered,  traded,  bartered, 
and  traflScked  in  these  same  articles,  and  have, 
I  believe,  invariably  been  worsted  in  these  en- 
counters; and  so  I  feel  that  I  have  in  a  double 
measure  been  of  benefit  to  my  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances, by  contributing  liberally  to  the  joy 
of  the  community  and  to  its  financial  welfare. 

Now,  what  have  I  done  for  myself  ?  I  have  to 
a  great  extent  lost  my  irritability.  I  have  opened 
a  large  house  to  my  friends  and  guests,  have  had 


246  FARMING    IT 

my  table  furnished  with  my  own  vegetables,  eggs, 
milk,  cream,  and  butter,  and  adorned  from  spring 
to  fall  with  my  own  flowers. 

I  have  brought  my  farm  to  a  high  state  of  fer- 
tility, hardened  my  hands,  strengthened  my  mus- 
cles, cured  my  indigestion,  and  benefited  every 
member  of  my  family,  and  I  have  never  neglected 
in  any  way  the  duties  of  my  profession. 

It  is  a  gray  afternoon  near  the  end  of  Novem- 
ber, and  I  am  driving  Polly  hitched  to  a  farm 
wagon.  In  the  back  of  the  wagon  in  a  rack, 
straw-bedded,  is  a  beautiful  Jersey  heifer.  Be- 
hind, loping  easily  along,  comes  the  little  roan 
Indian  pony,  upon  which,  sitting  easily  on  a 
cross  saddle,  is  my  once  small  daughter,  now  a 
girl  of  fourteen,  riding  with  the  ease  and  abandon 
of  a  cavalryman. 

The  roads  are  hard  and  smooth,  the  going  ex- 
cellent. Polly  is  ambitious  and  spins  along  at  a 
spanking  pace,  but  cannot  shake  off  the  smooth- 
gaited  pony.  A  chill  wind  blows  from  the  north, 
the  dry  rushes  at  the  river's  edge  bend  and  rustle 
eerily,  a  little  gray  bird  with  jerking  tail  flies  in 
and  out  of  the  dead  bushes,  while  overhead  a 
single  crow,  black  against  the  gray  sky,  wings 
its  way  toward  a  growth  of  giant  pines  that 
shoulder  to  shoulder  seem  to  defy  the  coming 
assaults  of  the  storm  king. 


-9 


RIDING   WITH  THE   EASE  AND  ABANDON  OF  A  CAVALRYMAN 


LOOKING    BACKWARD      247 

As  we  pass  the  first  bridge,  down  the  steely 
course  of  the  river  comes  a  muffled  figure,  while 
the  ring  of  the  skates  strikes  sharply  on  the 
silent  air. 

It  is  dusk  as  we  whirl  into  the  yard  and  pull  our 
horses  up,  —  dusk  and  chill  with  the  cold  breath 
of  the  dying  year.  Take  our  lantern  and  follow 
us  as  we  unhitch  Polly  and  lead  her  and  the  pony 
into  the  stable.  As  we  enter,  a  pedigreed  Jersey, 
from  her  warm  and  bedded  stall,  turns  her  head 
with  its  fringed  ears  and  soft  eyes,  and  lows  com- 
fortably. We  blanket  our  horses,  bed  them 
deeply,  then  climb  to  the  loft,  where  we  throw 
down  English  hay,  raised  on  my  farm.  The 
heifer,  unbound  and  dragged  to  a  well-bedded 
pen,  stares  about  her  in  surprise  at  her  comfort- 
able quarters,  then,  pricking  up  her  ears  and 
elevating  her  tail,  prances  awkwardly. 

Our  wagon  is  pulled  into  the  carriage-house, 
the  doors  of  the  barn  closed  and  locked,  and  we 
go  next  to  the  hen-coops.  We  carefully  empty 
the  water-cans,  close  the  shutters  to  the  windows, 
see  that  the  ventilators  are  open  and  the  fowls 
all  at  roost,  and  that  none  are  sick,  then  pass  on 
to  another  pen.  In  the  little  room  at  the  entrance 
to  the  coop  are  many  ribbons  won  at  poultry 
shows,  among  them  some  blue  ribbons. 

Then  to  the  storehouse,  where  we  see  that  the 
fastenings  of  the  doors  are  firm.   We  cannot  help 


248  FARMING    IT 

flashing  a  lantern  over  the  bins  filled  with  apples, 
com,  cabbages,  potatoes,  turnips,  and  carrots, 
raised  on  our  own  place. 

As  we  come  from  the  storehouse  and  fasten  the 
door,  night  has  fallen,  the  wind  is  moaning  about 
the  buildings,  and  a  few  flakes  of  snow,  the  ad- 
vance-guard of  the  storm,  come  sifting  silently 
down.  We  extinguish  our  lantern,  and  faintly 
in  the  gathering  darkness  we  can  make  out  the 
dead  corn-stalks  standing  like  ghosts  of  departed 
summer,  while  through  the  black  mass  of  the 
clustered  pines  the  wind  moans  drearily. 

Without  all  is  cold  and  dark  and  dreary.  Within 
all  is  bright  and  warm  and  comfortable.  Sum- 
mer is  gone,  but  she  will  come  again.  Now  for 
the  winter  and  our  fire  and  books.  And  locking 
arms  with  my  daughter,  I  enter  and  shut  out  the 
gathering  storm. 


/ 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .    S    .    A 


THE  CALICO  CAT 

By  CHARLES  MINER  THOMPSON 


"  A  farce  tinged  with  demure  seriousness.  It  is  enough 
to  tell  the  reader  that  he  will  chuckle  over  'The  Calico 
Cat.'" — New  York  Tribune. 

"  There  is  a  round  of  humorous  episodes  following  one 
another  in  quick  succession  and  making  keen  enjoy- 
ment for  the  reader." — Boston  Journal. 

"  A  most  vivacious  tale.  .  .  .  The  humor  of  the  book 
is  genuine  and  quite  irresistible."  —  Boston  Globe. 

"A  highly  amusing  and  ingenious  tale.  .  .  .  The 
simple  plot  is  ingenious  and  the  village  character 
types  are  varied  and  altogether  amusing."  —  Chicago 

News. 


Humorously  illustrated.   i6mo,  $1.25 


HOUGHTON  /^S-  BOSTON 

MIFFLIN  /^^\n\  ^^^ 

COMPANY  ^  \r'^  NE^  YORK 


THE  BREAKING  IN  OF  A 
YACHTSMAN'S  WIFE 


By  MARY  HEATON  VORSE 


"  Clever  !  Sparkling !  Full  of  quaint  humor  and  crisp 
description  !  Altogether  a  book  which  will  not  disap- 
point the  reader.  It  is  'different,'  and  that  is  one  great 
merit  in  a  book."  — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  It  will  puzzle  holiday  makers  to  find  a  better  vacation 
book  than  this.  Those  who  go  up  and  down  the  Sound 
in  yachts  will  find  it  especially  pleasing ;  it  will  appeal 
to  those  who  are  fond  of  human  nature  studies ;  may 
be  recommended  even  more  decidedly  to  the  serious 
than  to  the  young  and  frivolous  ;  a  tonic  to  depression 
and  an  antidote  to  gloom."  —  N.  V.  Times. 

"  Charming,  with  its  salt,  sea-slangy  flavor,  its  double 
love  thread,  and  its  pleasant  chapters  dealing  with 
Long  Island  Sound,  the  Mediterranean,  Massachusetts 
Bay  and  Venetian  lagoons. "  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

Illustrated  by  Reginald  Birch.    i2mo,  ;^i.50 


HOUGHTON  /^SSg.  BOSTON 

MIFFUN  i^S'  ^^^ 

COMPANY  ©\IQ  NEW  YORK 


/ 

53 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


Series  9482 


